The Swordsman and the Summoner
by koinekid
Summary: One year into reunification, war threatens the world, while ancient customs and romantic rivals threaten to tear Sheena and Lloyd apart. Friendships are tested, alliances broken, and two people learn that love is never as simple as happily ever after.
1. A short vignette about a sickly Collette

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author. The author is not affiliated with NAMCO, nor has NAMCO endorsed the story's contents.

The text of this story may not be reproduced in any manner, print or electronic, without prior permis­sion from the author, save for short passages for comment or review.

Insofar as copyright laws are able to protect this work, it is so protected.

**Note:** Many character and place names in the game are drawn from mythological sources. These names, originally appearing in ancient stories and oral traditions, are under no copyright restrictions. However, the manner in which they are presented is under copyright to the aforementioned NAMCO. The characters of Hikari and Suzumebachi have been created by the author specifically for this story. Anyone wishing to use these characters, please be so kind as to e-mail the author at with the subject line: Tales of Symphonia question.

**Setting: **Based on the Sheena ending of ToS, this story chronicles the sometimes awkward, sometimes frustrating, but always endearing romance of Lloyd and Sheena. Eleven months into their Exsphere hunting journey, they're headed for some well-deserved downtime in Iselia, where Zelos shortly arrives with grave news. The trouble the two worlds have had adjusting to their new unified state has reached a crisis point. A clash of ideals has arisen based on Tethe'alla's having been a monarchical society with all political power vested in the king of Meltokio and Sylvarant's surface having been dotted with generally unaffiliated city-states. As Genis puts it, "Freedom or fealty. Eventually one will win out." Frightened that freedom will win that struggle, the king decides on a course of action: conquer all of Sylvarant at any cost.

Obviously, Lloyd and his friends won't take this lying down. Friendships are tested, alliances broken, and, in the middle of it all, two people come to terms with their responsibilites as heroes and their devotion to one another, learning that love is never as simple as "happily ever after."

**Pairings:** Mutual Sheloyd; one-sided Colloyd; one-sided Sheena x Orochi; a skosh of Gesea

**Storylines: **Lloyd and Sheena's romantic troubles; the king of Meltokio's empire dreams; genetically engineered super soldiers; Mithos's menace from beyond the grave; Lloyd vs. Orochi; Colette and Presea's quest to find Martel; Kratos's dramatic return; startling revelations about Dirk and Altessa; a new summoner; Sheena's lessons on leadership.

■□■□■

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**Book 1: Gathering the Troops **

**_Chapter 1: A short vignette about a sickly Colette_**

"Is that it? I was just getting started."

Sheena Fujibayashi cast an over-the-shoulder glance at the bodies of her fallen opponents, a pair of archers and an armored swordsman who had managed to join up with a witch. Bandits most likely, they probably thought the witch made them invincible. She was the first to go down. One of the first rules of warfare Sheena learned on her journeys—always take out the magic user first.

Hers was a false bravado, however. In truth, she was exhausted. Had the battle lasted much longer, she just might have lost. She sighed, at last tucking the spell card she had been absently twirling into the inner pocket of her gi. The fights were more diffi­cult now that she had only one traveling companion. The enemies nowadays were less powerful than those of the past, but four against two were difficult odds no matter how lackluster the opponent. And, with so many criminals roaming the fields, there were plenty of opponents to be had. Not surprising. The times were confusing.

Scarcely a year ago, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, two worlds that had existed simultane­ously on slightly different planes of existence, were fused into one. Or rather, refused. No that doesn't work. Re-fused? Fused again? Restored—yes, that will do nicely. In the beginning, the worlds had been one. But to bring an end to the Kharlan war, Mithos, the Hero of Legend, wielding the Eternal Sword, had split the world in twain. He had hoped this would bring peace. The four thousand years of cycling between war and famine then prosperity since the splitting proved Mithos's a false hope. Lloyd Irving, the second Mithos, Mithos as he should have been, had restored the world. But just as Mithos's designs did not come to pass, neither did Lloyd's. At least they hadn't yet. Conflict and war still raged, and the people were still frightened.

Fear of the Desians, the half-elven oppressors of humanity, had formerly kept some would-be bandits on guard. But the Desians were mostly gone now. Scattered groups remained, and she and her companion periodically ran across them on their journey. Those battles were usually fierce but decisive. Her ninja skills and his swordsmanship complemented one another perfectly—she smiled at this thought—though, admittedly, they could have used a healer. Miracle gels had eaten up most of their gald reserve. On one memorable occasion they stumbled upon a group of Desians enslaving humans. Her companion had feared this was the beginning of a new human ranch: a factory that transformed humans into devices known as Exspheres that enhanced a person's natural offensive and defensive capabilities. They never discovered whether this were the case. They slaughtered the Desians without questioning them and freed the captives.

The power vacuum created by the sweeping defeat of the Desians had given rise to roving bands of raiders. It took most of the king's soldiers to maintain peace. Smaller groups, like the one she had just fought, had free reign.

Add to that the rumors circulating that the goddess Martel was a fraud. The religion that had pervaded both worlds had split. Some denied Martel altogether. No deity meant no judgment and the freedom to do as they pleased. Others clung to the goddess more fiercely. One particularly radical sect of militant Martel devotees had convinced them­selves that the Chosen's group, the group of eight that had set out to regenerate the two worlds, were Martel's enemies. They had put out a hit on the group a few months back—put out a hit? More like started a war. Sheena recalled the events with a sigh. _Barely escaped that one,_ she thought.

The sect had preached that the appearance of Derris-Kharlan, the third world, a year before had signaled the final awakening of Martel and her triumph over the Chosen's group. In a way they had been right. Martel was back. Sheena had not seen Martel with her own eyes, but Lloyd had. And she trusted Lloyd.

"I thought the regeneration of the world was supposed to make people treat others with respect," her companion said, gesturing to the fallen archers. "But they're still hurting each other."

Sheena smiled. "Patience, Lloyd. Altamira wasn't built in a day."

"What's Altamira have to do with this?"

She sighed. "It's an expression."

"Oh. You think they have any new rides?"

"New rides?"

"Yeah," Lloyd scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We haven't been there in months. Maybe they have some new rides."

Sheena shook her head. "Regal's been directing all his company's resources to rebuilding the world. I doubt there's been time to create any new rides."

"Too bad," Lloyd said. "Hey, remember the time you threw up on the cups ride?"

"No, that—"

"It flew everywhere."

"That wasn't—"

"Then Genis threw up."

"But, Lloyd, that—"

"Then I threw up."

"Lloyd!"

"What is it, Sheena?"

"That wasn't me. That was Colette."

"Are you sure? I was pretty sure it was you."

Sheena sighed. She reached into her bag and produced a small flask, which she tossed to Lloyd.

"Mmm. Apple gel. Thanks, Sheena. You're a great friend.

"She blushed. "You looked like you needed it."

Lloyd settled onto the ground as he worked at removing the cork stopper from the flask. He pulled at it with his teeth and only succeeded in biting off a chunk of bitter-tasting cork. He groaned.

Sheena laughed, walked over and sat down beside him. She took the flask, turned it over, tapped the bottom, and mumbled a short incantation. The cork began to slide out, and she righted the flask before it could spill.

"Thanks," he said and wolfed down the healing contents.

Sheena rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Had she kept them open, she would have seen a brief smile play across his features.

Resting her head on Lloyd's shoulder was one of the little things Sheena did to convey her true feelings. She couldn't come right out and tell him. The man was supposed to initiate these relationships. That's the way it had always been done in Mizuho. True, she wasn't in Mizuho now, nor had she been to the village in some months. But she would someday return, perhaps permanently, especially if things didn't work out with Lloyd. _Mustn't think like that!_ And as successor to the village's chief she would be the caretaker of its traditions. If anyone should behave according to these traditions, it was she.

This was, of course, simply an excuse. The real reason she left only those hints—plausible deniability. She was afraid of rejection. Suppose Lloyd didn't return her feelings. _What did I say about this line of thought?_ Should he confront her about them, these little hints could easily be brushed off. "Ha ha ha. Love you? Lloyd, I rested my head on your shoulder because I was tired! Honestly, you're so funny." or "We're friends, Lloyd. Friends can touch one another like this. Doesn't mean a thing." She could frame these words in her mind, but it would be harder than forging a new pact solo to say them without tears.

In the elven village of Heimdall she had come closest to telling him how she felt. "I want to be with you," she said. He thought she meant this journey. Even as she spoke, she knew that had been how he would interpret her words. The next day he would have to fight a very personal battle. It wouldn't have been fair to burden him with her feelings. She hadn't wanted him to understand. It had been enough that she had understood the true impact of her words. Managing to say them had been a personal victory.

Lloyd began to speak, but was cut off by a sharp bark. He stood. "Now that the monsters are gone, Noishe's finally decided to show his face again. Let's get going."

"Already," Sheena moaned. "But I'm exhausted."

Lloyd laughed. "I thought you were 'just getting started.'"

"Obviously," she quipped, "I was joking."

■□■□■

** Last Modified: **06 October 2006


	2. What's for breakfast?

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**A Note on Geography:** Rejoining the worlds, that is, restoring them to their original state, sentenced them to destruction. Only the timely suggestion of the summon spirit Origin and Lloyd's use of the Eternal Sword saved the world. We can speculate that, 4,000 years earlier when Mithos used the Sword to split the world, much the same thing could have happened. Both new worlds were shifted out of their normal plane of existence and into what could be termed pocket dimensions. Had action not been taken, they may have continued to drift and eventually been destroyed. Origin may have had a hand in saving the worlds this time as well, by suggesting the creation of an anchoring point that would prevent the worlds from slipping completely away. Thus was created the Tower of Salvation at a common geographical point in all three dimensions (the original and the pockets of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla). When the worlds were rejoined by Lloyd, it may be that the geographical features of the two worlds were superimposed upon one another with the Tower as the center. Villages would have been destroyed, climates changed, islands become part of continents.

If one could overlay grid-lined maps of both worlds (like the ones in the Brady Games Official Strategy guide), he could discover how the rejoined world might look. Mizuho would be in the mountains between Hima and Asgard and south of Luin (Note: Sheena did spend much of her time on Sylvarant before meeting the Chosen in this region). Meltokio would be in the vicinity of the Linkite tree not that far southeast of Iselia (Note: Zelos did suggest sending a peace delegation to Iselia). The Church of Martel's Hot Springs would be just east of Iselia. Altamira would no longer be an island paradise, but part of the western edge of the continent on which Palmacosta was located. Katz village would still be the only village on its island.

This fanfic, when it touches upon issues of geography, will assume that the model just outlined is correct.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 2: What's for breakfast?**_

"Get out!" Sheena tried to scream, but her voice came out as a whisper so quiet she could barely hear it.

She could see the boy Mithos. Though he had been shorter than she in life, he now towered over her. The giant's eyes were closed and his face showed strain. But he paid her no heed, just mumbled, "Insignificant bug," and continued to concentrate.

She could feel herself slipping away. "Please. I-I b—" No! She would not beg. This was still her mind, her body. She would demand. But it was so difficult. She tried screaming again, but could not make a sound.

Soon two figures stood before her. One, with silken black hair tied back and deep rich brown eyes, was her mirror image. The other resembled her in face and figure. But its hair was blonde and flowed freely. And the eyes were blue and piercing—beautiful eyes that said, "You can trust me. I'm your friend." The longer she stared at the second figure, the more she believed this was how she really looked. And the more she believed this, the more the figure changed. Its chest flattened and its hips lost their roundness. It shrank. She glanced back at the black-haired figure. Who was that again? No matter. It was fading. Soon it would be gone. She looked back at the blonde figure—he was a little boy, she realized—and smiled. She reached out a hand.

"Sheena, I'm here. Listen to me. I'll help you." A bell rang, and she felt a weight in her hand. It took several moments for her to realize it was Corrine's bell. _Corrine!_ She wanted to call out to him, but could not remember how to talk. She began to panic.

"It's all right, Sheena. You don't have to talk. Just remember."

Remember, she did. Corrine's face, and then other faces. The villagers from...Mizuho! Those who had trained her and those who had feared her, even those who had hated her. Other faces flashed in her mind. A sweet blonde girl who epitomized self-sacrifice. A silver-haired healer. Traitors and friends. And...a man in red.

"Lloyd!" She could speak again.

Lloyd was counting on her. He (her heart soared as she realized), he needed her.

"Thanks, Corrine," she said, "for everything." She locked eyes on her mirror image, her true mirror image as she spoke. It had regained its solid shape. "I know who I am now."

She retrieved a spell card from her gi, took a step toward the blonde, and smiled. Words were no longer necessary.

■□■□■

Sheena awoke with a start. She'd been having this same dream every few weeks since the worlds were rejoined. On good days it ended as the events it recalled had played out. She'd force Mithos from her mind, and sink to the ground, exhausted. A moment later she would feel arms surrounding her—Lloyd's arms, cradling her. Her head in the crook of his arm, she would open her eyes and see relief wash over his. She would be vaguely aware of the others around them, the Chosen's group, her friends, but in that eternal moment, she and Lloyd seemed to be the only two creatures in the universe.

On bad days she'd awaken before the dream had played itself out, still in thrall to Mithos. She'd feel a heavy weight on her chest for the rest of the day, periodically questioning whether a small part of him might still dwell inside her.

She giggled. Today was a good day. She ran a hand through her mussed-up hair, wondering if she had time for a short bath before Lloyd came knocking. Three sharp raps upon her door answered her question.

"Give me ten minutes," she called.

Upon receiving agreement, she quickly washed using water from a basin in the corner. They'd arrived late at the inn last night, and Sheena had almost gotten into a shouting match with the matron for insisting the basin be brought up. Lloyd had teased her about wanting to look good for him. She'd tripped over her words trying to deny it, but he'd spared her from too much embarrassment by apologizing and volunteering to lug the heavy basin up the stairs to her room.

Having laid out her clothes on the bed, she paused to survey them for any tears that needed repairing or thinning, worn out fabric that needed reinforcing. Satisfied at the state of her attire, she dressed and tied back her hair. She allowed her fingers to linger on the blue ribbon. Lloyd had purchased it for her during their first journey together. Coming from anyone else, it could have been considered a romantic gesture. But Lloyd, she knew, had been concerned for her protection. The spell weaved into it, the merchant had proudly declared, provided extra defense. So Lloyd had purchased them for all the women: herself, Colette, and Raine (Presea had not yet joined their group). Raine and Colette didn't wear ribbons, and so tied theirs around wrists or tucked them into pockets. Sheena, though, untied the ribbon she wore, let her hair flow freely for a moment, and then immediately tied it back with the new one. She had thought she caught a sparkle in Lloyd's eye when her hair was down, and held his gaze, perhaps a bit too long. Colette had been peeved. Sheena grinned wickedly then as she did now.

She briefly considered taking the ribbon out and wearing her hair down today. But the blonde figure from her dream flashing in front of her eyes made her reconsider. Besides, who knew what the day might bring forth? Wearing her hair up was the more practical choice. That's why she wore it that way in the first place.

Tap tap tap.

"Hey, Sheena, are you ready?"

She hefted her bag over her shoulder and met him at the door. "Ready."

"Great," Lloyd said, "Breakfast is ready downstairs—curry, I think, along with omelets."

"What kind of curry?"

"Kirima, but I saw a fruit stand in town. I could pick up a pineapple if you'd like."

Sheena shook her head. "Don't trouble yourself. Kirima sounds fine."

Lloyd nodded and walked a few paces ahead before turning around. "Hey, Sheena?"

She noticed he seemed nervous and asked, "What is it?"

"The uh, the water must have worked. You look great." Not waiting for her response, Lloyd moved quickly as he could to the stairs. "I'll save you a seat," he called.

Sheena waited until she could wipe the stupid grin off her face before joining him.

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Last Modified: 06 October 2006


	3. A cup of java & a friendly conversation

A recently discovered ancient tome entitled "Bozeman's Copyright Technique" counsels that one cannot make financial gain from a property one does not own.

**  
Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**Note:** The title of this chapter is based on the opening theme of a short-lived sitcom of too many years ago to remember. It was about a coffee shop, I think. I remember none of the characters and only a little of the plot. I think I watched it just for the theme. The last few words were: "A cup of java and some friendly conversation."

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 3: A Cup of Java and Some Friendly Conversation**_

"Dad, are you sure about this?"

The dwarf Dirk took a final look around his bare, old wooden cottage. All the keep­sakes of the years spent raising his foster son had been cleared out. The most precious were carefully wrapped and stowed in his luggage, while the others were distributed to friends, neighbors, and the occasional pilgrim. Items associated with the village's favorite son, one of the saviors who had reunited the world, were as revered as religious relics. Thrice in the past half year the cottage had been broken into by local relic seekers. Dirk wondered whether the Brunels had this problem. Probably not. Their house was secured with finely crafted locks—his work—and Phaidra could be fierce when protecting her granddaughter. He laughed. He didn't have to worry about pro­tecting Lloyd. As for locks—until lately, he'd had nothing worth stealing.

"Dad?"

"Aye, I'm sure, lad. I've been above ground too long. The caves are calling me home." He ran a hand through his red hair. The sides, usually shaved, were growing back. To his dismay, they were growing back speckled with gray. "I can't wait to construct a proper forge."

Lloyd looked at the pot-bellied stove in the corner. "What's wrong with the stove?"

Dirk shook his head. "Nothing's wrong with it. It's just the dwarven way to live under­ground, and I've been missing it sorely." He scrutinized his son, all grown up, a good head and a half taller than he. "Besides, you're old enough to be on your own. You don't need an old dwarf like me to take care of you."

"I'm only eighteen."

"And you've done more than many twice your age. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be thinking about settling down?"

Lloyd shook his head. "I have a lot more Exspheres to round up."

"Aye, but perhaps you need a 'companion' on that journey."

"I've got a companion."

"Perhaps a _close_ companion."

"Sheena's the best friend I've ever had."

"I heard that!" came a high-pitched voice from outside, its owner having left the cottage a few moments before to allow father and son a moment alone.

"Sorry, Genis," Lloyd said, and then mumbled, "Isn't there a dwarven vow about eavesdropping?"

"I'm surprised you know the meaning of that word," Genis called.

"Shut it."

Dirk ignored the friendly banter. "But what about after your journey? Will you two stay together?"

"I don't know. Sheena is next in line to be Mizuho's chief. I wouldn't want to stand in her way."

"But what does she want?"

"Whoa, this conversation is becoming way too serious."

"Deny it all you want," Dirk said. "You've never been able to hide your feelings from me."

"If you want to be gone by nightfall," Lloyd spluttered, "we'd better hurry."

"All right, lad, we'll go. You're obviously anxious to get back to your lady in Iselia."

"Dad!"

■□■□■

Colette Brunel watched the steam slowly rise from her coffee cup, grow thin, and disperse as it drifted toward the ceiling. She inhaled the sweet aroma, noting absently the effect her sniffing had on the path of the steam. She had not been prepared for the serious turn the conversation had taken. When Sheena Fujibayashi first appeared at her door, Colette had been pleasantly surprised, thinking Lloyd had arrived earlier than expected. Lloyd had not been at the door, however. He'd arrive later, Sheena explained, after helping his dad to finish packing. Doing her best to mask her disappointment, Colette embraced the girl and tried to sound disinterested. "Oh, will he? That'll be nice. I'm kinda glad he's not here yet. It'll give you and me time to catch up."

And they had caught up. Colette told Sheena of the goings-on in the Iselia region: the dismantling of the human ranch, the letters she'd received from Zelos—"Looks like you've taken him off my hands, Colette. Thanks," Sheena said, with a wink—and the arrival of the new delegate from Meltokio. Sheena seemed particularly interested in who had filled the post she'd vacated. When Colette described the committee meetings the delegate had to attend, Sheena stuck out her tongue and whined, "Boring. I'd hate that. Glad I'm with Lloyd. I mean...you know what I mean." In turn, Sheena told Colette of her journey with Lloyd. Places seen, enemies defeated, innocents saved. Lloyd estimated they'd destroyed at least a fifth of the Exspheres left in the world—where he'd gotten the estimate, she wasn't sure—and would have destroyed more had they not been repeat­edly sidetracked by people in need. But that's just the kind of person Lloyd was, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Colette had received a funny look from her guest when she said, "So that means you could be together for years." Perhaps it was due to the way her voice faltered on "together."

But that hadn't been what had turned the conversation serious. Somewhere along the way one or the other of them had broached the topic of last year's attack. The religious extremists had planned to attack them all separately, but Mizuho's information network proved as reliable as ever. Thus warned, the group of eight drew together again. Lloyd and Sheena, Genis, Raine, Colette, Regal, Presea, and Zelos. Aided by Mizuhoan ninjas, Sybackian magic students, and whatever troops Zelos could persuade the king of Meltokio to spare, they made a stand on the plains outside Iselia. But the enemy force was larger. In addition to swordsmen and magic users, there were rangers, captured monsters, and—Lloyd despaired over this—leftover victims of Cruxis, humans whose crestless Exspheres had turned them into monsters. By no means were they a professional army. Clearly they were unused to working together, and this caused them to make several strategic blunders. But their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm the group.

The fighting lasted for three days, with heavy casualties on both sides. Lloyd, acting as general by default, had assigned Sheena to help Raine in her mission to use Boltzman's healing techniques on any transformed humans. Sheena seemed reluctant to leave his side but obeyed, selecting a half dozen Mizuhoans to go with her. Genis, leading a frightened group of magic students, had successfully blocked most of the magic attacks from the opposing force, and even managed to inflict a bit of damage on them—an amazing feat since most of the students had never used magic outside of the classroom. Regal found his managerial skills easily transferable to the battlefield as he led the main attack force. He'd used the title of "Duke Bryant" to cement his authority. Zelos concentrated on keeping morale high. "The Chosen fights with you," he was heard to shout on numerous occasions. Presea stayed on the front lines, always the first to charge in and the last to retreat. A Meltokio captain declared her the "Tenchu Axewoman."

As for Colette, she didn't stray from Lloyd's side. He wouldn't let her. She was, after all, the enemies' main target. She and Lloyd fought together, attacking in tandem to inflict devastating damage. She hadn't felt that close to him in a long time. By the end of the second day Zelos had joined them, determined to protect his fellow Chosen. Lloyd argued that having them both in the same place would be dangerous, but Zelos dis­missed him, saying, "I can protect her, buddy. You do what you have to do." Lloyd nodded, quite relieved, thanked Zelos, and ran off at top speed. He cautioned Zelos to reinforce his position with whatever magic users Genis could spare.

Lloyd's ready departure confused Colette. He had been distracted most of the day, always casting quick glances toward the horizon whenever he could spare an eye. Colette thought nothing of it. They were in a battle, after all. Zelos, noting her confusion, explained: No one had heard from Sheena since the fighting began.

"So he's abandoned me for her."

"Oh, Colette, I'm sure he's just worried. He'd do the same for you."

"No, it's okay. I'm happy for Lloyd. I just hope Sheena's okay."

Zelos did not get the chance to respond. For at that very moment, the event occurred that cast a dark shadow on Colette's soul to this day. A surprise attack. An arrow pierced Zelos's chest and he slumped to the ground. Colette dropped to her knees, crying out his name. He was alive! Thank heaven, he was alive! He would recover quickly, momentarily actually, when he came to his senses and cast a healing spell, but the arrow took him out of the battle long enough for the small strike force to inflict on Colette a grievous injury.

She stood and quickly cast a defensive spell, just in time for the arrow speeding toward her to bounce harmlessly off her force field. Her wings flared to life as she took in her surroundings and prepared her chakrams. Two rangers and a sorcerer made up the strike force. And the sorcerer was mumbling a spell. _Time to silence him._ She readied her arm to throw her chakram but had to defend against another arrow. The delay allowed the sorcerer to finish his spell and the other ranger to let loose a nocked arrow. The arrow flew over her head, so she paid it no heed, instead preparing an angelic spell. But the sorcerer's magic did not strike her. It struck—

"Colette, look out!"

—it struck the arrow. A combo attack. Responding to the sorcerer's hand gesture, the arrow reversed in mid-air and struck her in the back at the base of one of her wings. Not during her worst bout with Angel Toxicosis had she known such pain. Her body shook violently and, losing control of her limbs, she dropped her weapons. A bright light flashed in front of her eyes, and her mouth slammed shut hard. Had her tongue been in the way, she would have lost it. She did lose consciousness and did not regain it until nearly a week later.

She then learned of the battle's outcome. Zelos had fried the strike force, and when Regal found him hours later the "unholy light was still in his eyes." Meanwhile, Lloyd had found Sheena's force pinned down under enemy fire and rescued them. Sheena herself had been separated from the group. He found her just outside a cave dueling with an angry egg bear. They rendezvoused with Raine and headed back to Zelos's position, arriving just as Colette was being carried back to Iselia.

Lloyd had blamed himself but not as severely as Colette thought he would. Sheena, he explained, had been working the entire week to convince him to forgive himself:

"It would make Colette upset to hear you berating yourself. Besides, if you hadn't arrived when you did, that egg bear would have eaten me."

"But I'm the one that sent you off in the first place."

"Are we starting this again?" she asked, punching him in the arm.

Everyone shared a laugh, even though it wasn't particularly funny. Anything to allevi­ate the tension, Colette supposed.

Colette allowed everyone to believe she had made a full recovery. Raine had figured out easily enough that she had not. But Colette had never told anyone what she now told Sheena as the two women sat at her table, sipping coffee.

"I don't bring them out anymore," she said.

"Your wings? But you loved flying."

"I know. It hurts too much. Raine's been working with me, healing me whenever she visits, but I'm not sure if I'll ever..."

Sheena nodded. She knew as well as anyone that old wounds, even ones healed with magic, still throbbed every now and again. Grandpa said it was to remind you to stop doing the stupid thing that got you hurt in the first place. But this...

She placed her hand on Colette's. "You've suffered far too much for someone your age." She wanted to say something else, anything else, to make this gentle girl feel better. All she could manage was, "Lloyd doesn't bring his out either." She knew how lame it sounded even as she spoke.

Colette looked up. "You and Lloyd—you two have become close."

"Does that bother you?"

"N-no. I'm happy Lloyd has found such a good...friend."

"Friend."

■□■□■

Last Modified: 06 October 2006


	4. Shall I contact Sir Bud?

Sybak 4/16

On a tip from the Renegades, Lloyd and his friends used the Sybak library to research fair use and copyright. They learned the law had several gray areas, but one issue seemed black and white. Copyrighted materials may only be used for profit by those who hold the copyright. Raine suggested that should the group ever decide to write a TOS fanfic they do so purely for entertainment purposes to avoid violating NAMCO's copyright.

Presea suggested they only write Sheloyd fics as the idea of Shelos fics seemed to turn Miss Fujibayashi's stomach. Colette was strangely silent at this remark, while Zelos sulked. And Lloyd wasted several hours searching the monster book for an entry on a "shell void." When he later asked Sheena whether she had ever seen one, she mumbled, "Idiot," under her breath.

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 4: Shall I contact Sir Bud?**_

Zelos Wilder sighed in self-pity as he lay sprawled on a Meltokio street corner, a crushed trashcan beneath him and a rotten banana peel on his head.

"Chosen of Mana, stop!"

Zelos used his flaming red spectral wings to pull himself to his feet. Running for your life, he realized, may not be the best time for self pity, but, damn it, he cream rinsed his hair this morning. Of all the days for the king to declare him a criminal and sign his death warrant! He sniffed his hair. "Aww, it was kirima scented."

He had dropped the banana peel and put away his wings by the time the armored soldiers surrounded him. And not a moment too soon. None in Meltokio knew the Chosen had angel wings, and, were he to reveal them today, he would do so strategi­cally. Any secret, after all, has potential to be a secret weapon.

The clanking of the soldiers jogging in their heavy, green armor died down just in time for Zelos to hear the city gates shut with a resounding clang.

Their captain, resplendent in his golden armor, unrolled a scroll. The royal seal stamped at the bottom front, was evident on the back as a circular shadow as the morning light passed through the paper. The hard time he was having balancing his pike against his chest, then his shoulder, then the crook of his arm as both hands were busy keeping the scroll open caused Zelos to chuckle.

"Chosen," the captain said, "you have been declared an enemy of the State. We hereby place you under arrest in the name of our Sovereign King—"

"Oh, come on, guys. Can't you let me off with a warning?"

"Chosen, please," another soldier said, "this is serious."

"Heh heh. My mistake."

"Our Sovereign..." The captain's attempt to continue his reading halted as the pike slipped from his arm and hit the paved street with a thud. He bent to retrieve it, and when he righted himself the scroll was gone from his hand.

"Almost." Zelos rubbed at his head with the crinkled scroll. "There. I think I got it all." Then a look of mock apprehension crossed his face. "Oh, this is yours. And I got banana slime all over it. Sorry, Cap."

The captain spluttered, and then seethed.

"Too far?"

The sound of weapons being readied provided the only answer. _Here goes_, Zelos decided. With a flash, he deployed his wings in all their brilliance. He rose, pirouetting through the air, making bright arcs of light as he swung his sword, as if slicing the air itself. He intended to simply wow the soldiers before flying over the gates and retreating toward Iselia. Instead, playing off one of the soldiers' reactions, he had a little fun.

"It's Spiritua reborn...again...as a man!" the soldier cried.

"What a weird title," Zelos mumbled, then at full volume spoke, "Yes, I the mighty Zelos, Chosen of Mana, come to you in the spirit and power of Spiritua to...uh, wreak havoc and destruction upon my enemies."

Before he completed the sentence, the soldiers in green fled, leaving their captain the lone pikeman to face a dismal fate. But he, to his credit, stood his ground.

Zelos, though, flew above the ground, just out of the pike's reach.

"I know you're not Spiritua, Chosen."

Zelos grinned, pointing his sword at the man. "You're right. I'm not, but I am stronger than you. Tell you what, Cap. Makes no difference to me whether your lovely armor gets rusty from all your blood, but, if you deliver a message for me, I'll let you live."

"What message do you wish to give His Majesty? I'll deliver it along with your head."

"I got nothing to say to the king. Tell the lovely Princess Hilda I bear her no ill will for her father's stubbornness. I still consider her one of my top hunnies."

The captain lunged at his opponent, but Zelos easily dodged. And a quick slash of his sword sent the pike spiraling to the ground. With a final wink, Zelos disappeared over the gates and out of the captain's sight.

When he was certain the Chosen was gone, the captain sank to his knees and exhaled deeply. He just managed by the time backup arrived to stop his hands from shaking.

■□■□■

"I'm happy Lloyd has found such a good...friend," Colette said as three raps drew her attention to the door. She stood, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief (She was determined to allow no one else to see her cry), smoothed her blouse, and walked to the door.

"Friend," Sheena whispered.

"Lloyd," Colette called out, "I'm so happy to see you." She hugged him, burying her face in his chest as they stood in the doorway.

"Colette." Lloyd placed an arm around her shoulder.

Her hand on his chest, she turned in the embrace to face Sheena.

_...They look so natural together, don't they?..._

Sheena gasped.

Lloyd heard the gasp and started forward to voice his concern, but Colette, pushing off from his chest, beat him there. Her hand stroked the other woman's. "What is it? Are you sick?"

"It, it's nothing. I thought I heard something. It's nothing."

Lloyd was now at the table, his hand holding Sheena's other. Their eyes locked, and she blushed.

_...He's touching your hand. You think that means he cares for you? Then why's he also touching Colette?..._

_His hand is on her back. Big deal. It's probably there for balance or...something._

_...Looks like they're consoling you as a couple..._

_Sh-shut up, Mithos_. Sheena shut her eyes tight. These were side effects of her being bonded with Mithos's Cruxis Crystal. They would pass with time. Who was she kidding? They were getting worse.

"Lloyd, I—"

Both his hands were on hers now. That made her smile. When she opened her eyes, she discovered she had a table full of concerned friends. Dirk and Genis had let them­selves in. She resolved, "_Lloyd if I have to have the voice of Mithos in my mind the rest of my life I'll endure it for you. I've never regretted sacrificing myself for you, not for a moment! I lo_—"

"You have Mithos's voice inside your head. Sheena, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I said all that out loud!" Sheena's face lost color.

"You didn't mean to?" Lloyd said.

"I...I...oh, boy."

"You never have to hide anything from me, Sheena. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Dirk poked Genis in the side and whispered, "Isn't this generally the kind of confession one makes in private?"

Genis shrugged. "Lloyd doesn't really do things in the conventional manner."

"Too true, laddie. Too true."

No one seemed to notice when Colette slipped quietly away from the table and headed for the door. Grandmother would surely scold her for being a bad host, but she needed to be alone. Lloyd's attentiveness to Sheena hurt her, yes. But it was the darkness in her heart that frightened her. _You've got him all year, and you can't let me have him one week when he's in my house. You...you..._ She had never before used the word she wanted to call Sheena, not even in her thoughts.

_I can't be here right now_, she decided. Fate, however, in the form of a tall dashing redhead whose hair smelled of bananas, conspired against her plans to abscond.

"Hello, my little angel. Wish I were here to swap pleasantries, but we've got trouble." He addressed the entire group, "Big trouble."

■□■□■

**Note: **I've tried a variety of methods to denote Mithos's end of Sheena's mental dialogue, all of which this site rejected. At last, I decided to surround his words with ellipses (sets of three periods...that indicate pauses or unfinished thoughts). For example:

_...He's touching your hand..._

I would have explained this at the beginning, but it might have ruined the dramatic tension.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	5. A dwarven digression

If I could afford to buy the TOS copyright from NAMCO, I would; unfortunately, I spent all my money rebuilding Luin.

**Disclaimer:** NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**Note:** The first sentence in this chapter follows the same structure as the first sentence of Book 2, Chapter 2 of _The Fellowship of the Ring_. Chapter 6 continues this homage to Tolkien's monumental epic.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 5: A Dwarven Digression**_

In the morning, Altessa woke early, feeling depressed and uneasy. More time than intended, he spent brooding in his corner chair where he didn't have to look at the door and the baggage piled beside it. He'd designed this area with its high ceiling to simulate inasmuch as possible the underground caverns of his youth. Whenever he questioned the morality of working for Cruxis, he'd lean back in the chair, eyes shut, head resting against the cold stone of the mountainside wall and be transported back home. Here alone with his thoughts, Tabatha dealing with any unwanted visitors, he'd meditate on his people, kept safe underground away from the wrath of Yggdrasill.

Today the dwarf brooded for a different reason. Over the years what had been con­ceived as a substitute for home replaced home in his heart. Now that it came down to it, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave. He was afraid, unsure. He hadn't been underground for more than a visit (passed off as an inspection to Lord Yggdrasill) in decades. And now he intended to live down there? Was he hearty enough to survive?

_You'll not survive long anyway, you old fool, above ground or below._ _Delay and you'll not reach the halls of your fathers in time to atone for your sins._

He stood too quickly and felt a sharp pain in his chest. His breath came in short gasps and specks of black swirled in front of his eyes. He leaned over the nearby table, tightly gripping the sides. He forced himself to breathe slowly—_In and out. In and out, that's good_—until the worst of it passed. He had never properly recovered from the woulnd Yggdrasill gave him. He smiled. The wound had been gained defending an innocent from harm. It was not strictly a battle wound, but still his father would have been proud. He might even have lowered his axe in acknowledgment.

Altessa thought of Presea Combatir, the girl he'd saved. Throwing himself between her and the oncoming mana blast had not been a purely selfless act. Rather, it had been an attempt to make amends as best he could for stealing sixteen years of her life. His motives in working for Cruxis, if not his actions, had been noble. The sacrifice of one human girl so his people might be left alone had seemed right. Even now if given a second chance, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't make the same decision. Lloyd Irving may have found a way to save everyone, but Altessa was not Lloyd Irving. Truly he did not believe himself capable of Lloyd's way of thinking. Whereas Lloyd was a gentle idealist, Altessa was a cold logician. If he could not save everyone, he'd save those most important to him. But meeting Presea again had cracked that cold exterior and thrown into doubt every choice he'd made since meeting Yggdrasill. Perhaps he hadn't sought hard enough. Perhaps he hadn't cared enough. But the past was the past. Though he could not undo, he could atone.

He had been willing to die for Presea and nearly had. The doctor had helped as best he could, considering how little he knew of dwarf physiology. Only the boldest of dwarves ventured above ground; consequently, few outsiders had any great experience treating the species. But even the most skilled dwarf healer could not have worked a miracle. Old age had been creeping up on him for many years, and the wound had slowed him down just enough for old age to catch up. Altessa was dying. But he would not die above ground. He had not lived like a dwarf, but, damn it, he would die like one.

After a few more deep breaths, he stood, slowly this time, and moved for the door. He did not open it right away, fearful that he would find Tabatha here to see him off. He had not told her he was leaving, but he did not doubt that she would somehow sense it. The artificial human had been like a daughter to him, more so than any natural born daughter could have been. What other father could say he had assembled his child piece-by-piece? Most take only a few minutes to "assemble" their children. Altessa had taken hundreds of hours.

She had visited him since her transformation or possession or whatever. She had ful­filled her life's purpose, becoming Martel's vessel, and was no longer the same Tabatha he knew. He had not even been sure what to call her. Tabatha? Martel? Or something else entirely?

"You may call me whatever you wish," she had said.

"But what do _you_ want to be called?"

"Whatever makes you most comfortable."

He opened the door at last. No Tabatha. Good. He took a last glance at the world above and shut and bolted the door for the last time. He gathered up the baggage and hauled it to the cordoned-off area in the back of his home. He unfastened the chain. Beyond it lay his file room, and beyond that the passage that would lead him below. The files were far too numerous to take with him, his luggage being spacious enough only for essentials for the journey. He had briefly considered destroying the files, but could not bring himself to do it. They could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but Cruxis was gone. Altessa planned to send dwarves to the surface to retrieve the files. In the interim, they should be safe. The traps were in place. Nothing so sophisticated as the Toize Valley Mine. If anyone attempted to open the files without the correct procedure, they would simply catch fire—the files, that is, not the thieves.

He allowed his hand to linger on the side of the tunnel entrance. He turned around, with making sure the files were secure as his pretense, and gave his home one more final glance. "Goodbye," he whispered, unsure whether he was speaking to his daughter, his past, his life, this world, or all of them at once. Then Altessa disappeared into the darkness.

In the main room, a green-haired woman appeared. She knelt to retrieve the end of the chain and re-affixed it to the end of the doorway, cordoning off the area once more. "Goodbye, Father," she whispered. And then she was gone.

■□■□■

**Next:** The Council of Zelos, wherein the Gleaming Knight reveals to his compatriots the king's nefarious plan.

If you haven't read my one-shot "The Swordsman and the Six-week Old" give it a try. Though similarly named, it has nothing to do with this fic.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	6. The council of Zelos

Sheena could feel her anger reach a crescendo, and it seemed to take physical form as a black glow radiating from her core and exploding all around her. She took an orange gel to replenish her magical powers, deftly jumped backwards to a safe distance, and began her incantation:

"I summon thee, Purveyor of Ungodly Litigation! Come, Copyright!"

The greatest of all Summon Spirits, greater even than the mighty Origin, appeared. His visage was that of a lion, and he had great black wings and a flowing black mane. His eyes were clear and blazing, and he had no pupils. Whenever he opened his mouth, the air surrounding caught fire. Whenever he exhaled from his nostrils, the air froze. The Spirit held no weapon, for he needed none. His gaze alone was enough to send his opponents fleeing in terror. But he would not allow them to escape. He called out his attack:

"CEASE AND DESIST!"

Letters, duly notarized and stamped with a fearsome seal and heavy with the verbosity of their legalese, rained down in triplicate upon his enemies. Fanfic authors had but one recourse. They fell to their knees calling out, "We swear we're not profiting from these stories! Besides, it's free publicity!"

Satisfied, Sheena nodded. She said, "Thanks, Copyright. You may go."

"As you wish, Grand Summoner."

Lloyd pulled himself to his feet. "Wow, Sheena. You must really hate fanfiction!"

Sheena shook her head. "Of course not. I love fanfiction. It really fills in the story gaps NAMCO left behind. It's bad fanfiction I hate."

Lloyd smiled, "Gotcha."

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**Note:** This chapter's title is a tribute to "The Council of Elrond," Book 2, Chapter 2 of the Fellowship of the Ring by Tolkien. As I sketched out the dialogue and notes for this chapter, it seemed to shape itself into a council of war. Reference to FOTR seemed only natural. The first sentence to the last chapter follows the same structure as the first sentence of the FOTR chapter. The same is true for several sentences sprinkled throughout this chapter. It is a very small tribute to the undisputed father of modern fantasy literature. Five points to anyone who can spot all five sentences.

Also, for some reason a Star Wars Episode One quote slipped in. It's only a gag, but still I feel the need to beg forgiveness.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 6: The Council of Zelos**_

Zelos Wilder sat at the table, a grin on his face despite the gravity of the news he bore. All eyes were glued on him, and he reveled in being the center of attention. Both his little angel and she of the bodacious body seemed at rapt attention. Of course, the guys were looking at him too. There were too many guys in here. Ah, well.

When he'd first entered Colette's eyes had been brimming with tears. No doubt Lloyd was to blame. When would he realize how much this girl cared for him? It wasn't that Zelos necessarily wanted Lloyd to abandon Sheena for Colette. Then they'd have the same problem, roles reversed. It's just that he wanted Lloyd to mature enough to realize the situation he was in. Then at least he could stop unintentionally keeping Colette's hopes up. Decisive action needed to be taken. He honestly believed, if Lloyd had begun an official relationship with Sheena after last year's attack, Colette would have moved on. She would have been crushed, but she would have moved on. But that was Lloyd for you: brilliant swordsman, expert tactician, clueless romantic.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it, every female in the group seemed to have some level of affection for Lloyd. Colette's and Sheena's feelings were romantic. Raine's was maternal, of course, and Presea's only bordered on the romantic. Any notions of affection would have soon passed away. Hers was a love of saved for savior. Lloyd gave her back her humanity. It was easy to confuse gratitude for attraction. He once overheard Presea asking Lloyd whether he liked anyone. That time he'd called Sheena a pal. But he had bonded with the summoner quite a bit since then. Zelos wondered how Lloyd would answer the question now. If they managed to live through this, he'd be sure to ask him.

He set down his coffee cup about to continue his narrative but waited while Colette went to get more coffee. He watched her walk away, and, as she passed an end table, he noticed for the first time the golden spider statue he and Colette received at Derris-Kharlan. _So that's where she keeps it._ Colette had suggested they share the statue, keeping it half the year at his house, half the year at hers. As far as he was concerned, she could have kept it outright. He had enough trinkets and baubles in his mansion for two lifetimes. Boxes of unopened gifts still covered tables and filled corners. But who was he to deny a beautiful girl? "Great idea, my little angel," he'd said. "This way we'll get to see each other at least twice a year!" Had Sheena been there he would have put on his best lecherous grin and asked, "Anything you want to give me?"

"Hey, pervert, eyes up."

"Heh heh. Sorry, Sheena."

His eyes must have wandered while he'd been thinking. _Wow. Busted the one time I wasn't looking at her._

"Thanks, Colette," he said when she placed the full coffee cup in front of him. "Now, where was I?"

"The king overheard you flirting with Princess Hilda and signed your death warrant," Sheena offered.

He sighed. "I told you that was purely incidental."

"Right..." Sheena said.

"It was," Zelos said, "Besides if I were going to be killed for flirting I'd have died long ago."

"He's got a point there," Genis said.

"Hey!" Zelos whimpered.

Lloyd rapped on the table. "Guys, Iselia could be in danger. We have to focus. Zelos, please continue."

Sheena's cheeks turned a shade of crimson. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Lloyd brushed his fingers over hers and smiled. His message: Don't worry about it.

Zelos continued, "Like I was telling you, I've been pressuring the king to keep the peace ever since the world was reunited."

"Weary work, lad," Dirk commented.

"Yes, long and weary," Zelos said, "but not without profit. Anyway, up until recently he listened to me. I genuinely thought I'd gotten through to him. But now it seems he was only feeling out the situation, preaching the peace while preparing for war. I noticed he had been building up the army, and sending it out on advanced training missions. That's why he could only 'spare' a few token troops when we were attacked last year. I asked him why. 'Why build up the army when there's no one left to fight?' He blew me off with some line about always being prepared. I didn't believe him. Finally I confronted him and demanded the truth."

"And he told you?" Lloyd said.

"No, he tried to have me killed. But I pretty much had everything figured out before I confronted him."

"Then why did you? Confront him, I mean?"

"I wanted to give him a chance to reconsider." _Like you gave me, Lloyd._

Genis spoke up, "Since my sister's not here to say this, I will. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea, Zelos. If you hadn't said anything, you could have slipped away quietly and made preparations to stop him."

Lloyd shook his head. "Genis is right, but I think I understand why you did it."

Zelos smiled. "Thanks." There was silence. At last Zelos spoke again. "Since his father's death, the king has ruled over everything in Tethe'alla. Everything. When the worlds were reunited his kingdom became a patchwork of competing ideals, his area of influence full of holes like a moth-eaten blanket. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if the worlds were connected side by side. But they weren't. They were laid on top of one another. Suddenly in the middle of his kingdom were cities that paid him no allegiance."

"He's concerned the desire for freedom might spread to his people," Sheena said.

"And he'd lose everything," Genis concluded.

"I don't know," Lloyd said, "Most Tethe'allans view us as bumpkins."

Genis rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "That's true. But that attitude can't last forever. Freedom or fealty, eventually one would win out. It's actually quite intelligent of the king to consolidate his power while he can."

"It may be intelligent, but it's not right. And I won't let it happen!" Lloyd stood up, pumping his fist into the air to emphasize his point.

"Easy, Lloyd," Zelos said, "I'm with you on this."

Lloyd sat down again, a little embarrassed. "Thanks, Zelos. So what do you think we should do?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the brilliant strategist. We'll follow your lead."

Sheena smiled. "Wow, Zelos. That sounded like a genuine compliment."

"Or maybe he's just lazy," Genis said.

"I'm just tired. I practically walked all the way here."

"You could have flown," Genis replied.

Zelos shook his head. "Wings aren't really practical for long distance traveling. Flying really takes it out of you. I'm sure Colette would agree. Am I right?"

Colette said nothing, just gave a little nod. Beneath the table, she felt Sheena's hand wrap around hers. Colette squeezed back in appreciation.

Before Zelos could ask what was wrong, Lloyd spoke up. "We have to fortify Iselia. We've repelled an attack before. We can do it again."

"Last time we had an army," Genis said. "Now we don't even have our group of eight here. And last time they weren't attacking Iselia, _per se_. Only us. But this time, the village is the king's primary target."

Lloyd reached into his bag, and produced a rolled map. He untied the leather thong binding it, and spread it out on the table. Consulting a map always helped him plan his next move. This one, newly completed by the Katz expedition team, bore the super­scription "The Reunited Worlds of Tethe'alla and Sylvarant" in a flowing script at the top and "Commissioned by the Lezareno Company" at the bottom. It had been delivered to Lloyd by special courier when he'd been staying in a hotel a few nights before. How Regal knew where to send the map when Lloyd had not been certain where he'd be staying that night, Lloyd couldn't guess. He studied the map before speaking. "Iselia is a small village, hardly worth the trouble since the Chosen isn't...well, chosen here anymore. Why wouldn't the king go after Luin? Or Palmacosta? Regal has almost finished rebuilding it. Both are better targets."

"The king has specific intentions, Lloyd," Zelos said. "Capturing Iselia would be a symbolic victory too good to pass up. And he'll want to preserve the wealthy cities if he can for the taxes they'll generate." He punctuated his response by tapping each city's location on the map in turn.

Lloyd sighed. "Maybe we overdid the rebuilding of Luin. We all but gave them golden streets."

"The statues of Sheena and Raine were a nice addition, though," Zelos said. "I hear Sheena's is a make-out spot."

"Zelos! You...I...Oh, I can't even talk to you!"

"Anyway," Zelos continued, "the king is probably counting on their fear of being destroyed again to keep them compliant."

Sheena, having recovered from being flustered, mumbled, "Fear is a powerful moti­vator." _I should know._

"Do we have time to gather an army?" Lloyd asked.

Zelos shook his head. "Meltokio is only a few days march from here. Any support we could get would be farther away, and likely have to be mustered from scratch. Back to Genis's point, I'd feel a lot better if we had all the big eight here."

Lloyd nodded. "Me too."

Genis made a suggestion. "We could gather them with rheiards. And call in reinforce­ments at the same time. They'd be late, but maybe we could hold off the king's forces."

"Mizuho will help," Sheena said, "I know they will."

"Do we even _have_ the rheiards?" Zelos asked.

"Lloyd and I have one," Sheena said, patting the wing pack that contained the minia­turized flying machine.

"Raine and I have another," Genis said. "The others we left with Regal, but he may have returned them to Yuan by now."

Zelos nodded. "We have two. Good. We can manage."

"One, actually," Genis said. "Raine has ours."

"And where is my glamorous beauty?"

"On Exire."

"The floating city?" Zelos asked.

"Yeah. She wanted to see Mom. I had her drop me off first."

Sheena asked, "You didn't want to see your mother?"

"No, I didn't," Genis said. "I was very small when she sent us away, and, maybe there's something wrong with me, but I feel rather ambivalent about seeing her."

"Ambi—?" Lloyd questioned.

"I don't care about seeing her."

"Oh, why didn't you say so?"

Genis sighed. "Lloyd, I did."

"We'll need to bring Raine back," Zelos said. "We'll need her healing powers before all this is over. I just hope we'll be able to find Exire."

"That's no problem," Genis said. "Raine placed a tracking device in one of the buildings. And I've got a tracker. She gave it to me when she dropped me off."

"Good thinking, Professor!" Lloyd said.

Sheena shook her head. "Is it really? What if the tracker fell into the wrong hands? There's still a lot of prejudice against half-elves among Tethe'allans."

"And in people from Sylvarant too," Genis said. "Now that the Desians are gone, they don't even fear us.

Zelos recalled an old axiom. "Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads..." He scratched his chin. "What was the rest of that line?"

Lloyd pointed to the southeastern continent on his map. Altamira, the island paradise, in the reunited world was a peninsula, still more or less a paradise, but with a lot less beach front property. "Regal is most likely in Altamira, and he'll probably know where to find Presea. I'll head there first. If we're lucky he'll still have the other rheiards."

"Is Regal still to be trusted, do you think?" Zelos said to Lloyd, "'cause his sense of loyalty has me concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"The guy respects the law. He's a duke and a loyal subject of the king. He opposed the pope when he fought with us, but if it comes down to war with the king, I'm not certain where he'll stand."

Lloyd shrugged. "It never occurred to me to doubt him, but I guess what you say is possible. It's a risk I'll have to take. I trust him enough to think that if he does remain loyal to the king he at least won't take me captive." He turned from Zelos, and placed a hand on his closest companion's shoulder. "I'd like you to remain here, Sheena."

"No way. I can hold my own, and you don't have to worry about protecting me."

Lloyd laughed.

Sheena frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry. Sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. I want you to remain here so that, if Regal does arrest me, you can break me out of jail."

She blushed furiously, silently calling herself an idiot. She'd recalled a time when Lloyd asked Colette to remain behind while the rest of the group stormed Mithos's stronghold, and had thought he'd done the same here. She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed he hadn't been as concerned as she believed, or thrilled her fighting skills impressed him so. She decided on the latter. "Sheena of Mizuho accepts this mission from Lloyd."

"Thanks. I'm certain I can count on you."

The group talked for some time after that, Lloyd and Zelos nearly getting into an argument as they discussed strategy over the map. Sheena took Colette aside, offering her comfort as best she could (and tactfully avoiding the mention of anything related to Lloyd). Genis fiddled with the tracker, and made a list of supplies they'd need, occasionally peeking at the map to remind himself of item shop locations. Dirk, who had kept silent and observed during the council offering only the occasional comment, settled into the corner and sketched out new weapons designs.

As nightfall neared and the sleeping arrangements were decided upon, Lloyd asked Sheena to walk with him outside. They traversed the length of Iselia twice while Lloyd shared various childhood memories associated with the village. "Those grape vines are a prime hide and seek spot," and "here's where Colette crashed through the item shop wall. She was just five. The pastors treated it like a religious landmark and wouldn't let the owner cover it for months. All his gels went bad and his tools rusted." Lloyd had given her a similar tour of the area surrounding Dirk's house before he and Sheena left on their journey. The dead tree, chipped and scarred from the first time he was allowed to practice with a real blade, recalled a favorite memory.

As they neared Colette's house, Lloyd halted. "I want you to know," he said, "in all the excitement I haven't forgotten about what's happening to you. I promise you I'll find a way to stop this. You shouldn't have to suffer because of me."

"Lloyd, I meant what I said. I don't regret sacrificing myself for you. I care about you. I'd die for you."

"I care about you, too. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"Friend." A sigh was about to escape her lips. A sigh of resignation, but at the last moment, a fierce determination arose in her heart. _No! I will not accept this again! Now or never._ "Llo—"

"No, that's not right," Lloyd continued. "Friend is the wrong word. Something Dad said today made me realize that. Genis and Colette are my friends. Heh. Even Zelos is my friend. You are something else entirely."

He brushed a strand of hair away from her eye, and she caught his hand, holding it fast, before he could move it away. He leaned closer. She leaned closer, and licked her lips. They both closed their eyes.

A mere inch away from contact, however, they stopped. Or rather, they were stopped. A bright shaft of light pierced the night as the front door of the house opened. Lloyd blinked and shielded his eyes.

Colette stood in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. "I was just coming to look for you. I was worried." She suddenly stumbled forward, fainting. Lloyd called out her name and made it to the girl just in time to stop her from striking the ground. Sheena's hand still held his, and when he ran forward he wrenched her arm quite painfully. While she was massaging her aching shoulder, she wondered if Colette's faint were really a feint. Through the doorway she could see Zelos watching, regarding Colette with pity. At last he met Sheena's gaze, shrugged, and mouthed, "Sorry. I tried to stop her."

Sheena nodded, mouthing back "Thanks for trying." She traced the outline of the spell card poking against the outside of her gi. _I'm beginning, _she thought, _to regret sparing this girl._

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	7. The goose down accord

NAMCO owns the copyright, but this story is out of sight! What do you say, J.J.? "It's Dyn-o-mite!"

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 7: The goose down accord **_

Sheena awoke on soft sheets and a down pillow. This bed was the most comfortable she'd slept in since she stayed at the Altamira Hotel. She was getting way too used to soft mattresses. The bedding in Mizuho, by contrast, was firm, comfortable after a fashion, and better for your back, but not nearly as luxurious. There was something about sinking into bed and feeling like you're floating on a cloud.

She turned over, staring into the eyes of her bedmate. Last night's events left her confused. What should she say? How could she make it all better? She wanted to help the girl, but she couldn't sacrifice her own happiness. That thought, though, smote her conscience. Colette had been willing to sacrifice her own happiness for world regener­ation. Still, Sheena assured herself, even if she wanted to, she couldn't command Lloyd to love Colette. If he felt for Sheena what she felt for him, it wouldn't be fair to deny him her love either. And Sheena was beginning to think perhaps he did feel the same. Before they had been interrupted last night, he had nearly kissed her.

There had been a lot of tension as she slipped into bed with Colette. Part of her wanted to throttle the girl, the other part to hold her as she cried herself to sleep. She settled on, "G'night, Colette. Sweet dreams," and was greeted with a stiff "Night," in return. Whenever they had shared a room before, Colette always gave the full "Good night. Sweet dreams," and she usually spoke first, leaving Sheena to reply. Thus, it had been in sadness that she had drifted off to sleep, certain that her dreams would be plagued with visions of Mithos, or perhaps Volt. She sometimes had that dream too. It seemed that Mithos chose to leave her to her present torment. This morning she couldn't remember what she had dreamt.

She hoped Lloyd wouldn't leave for Altamira right away. She wanted to see him off. She perked up her ears, straining to hear anything in the next room. Lloyd wasn't in there, or he was still asleep. After last night's incident, the group had quickly gone off to bed. As Iselia had no inn to speak of, only a few citizens who occasionally took in boarders for pocket money, the group had split in two. Genis and Zelos went to Genis's old home, which had been rebuilt by the villagers as thanks after the world regeneration journey. Zelos had been thrilled at the prospect of sleeping in Raine's bed. Even when it was pointed out that the bed was new, and Raine had yet to use it, Zelos didn't mind. "I'm sleeping in her bed in spirit!" he proudly declared. It had already been settled that Lloyd and Sheena would stay with the Brunels during their one week vacation—Sheena in Colette's room and Lloyd in the guest room—and there was no reason to change those plans. Dirk had intended to be far from Iselia by nightfall, but being caught up in the Council, he'd stayed with Lloyd in the guest room.

Sheena at last spoke, asking Colette, "So, when do your expect your father home?"

"In just a few days. He's had this trip planned for months." Colette smiled. "When he heard you and Lloyd were coming, he almost rescheduled. He thought you might need to be healed. But Grandmother insisted he go."

"He's a good man, your father."

"Uh-huh."

"And your grandmother is at the Martel Temple, right?"

"Yes. She's overseeing the renovation. They'll be honoring Verius there, as well, you know."

"Really? That's wonderful! I'd love to see it!"

"You should. It'll be finished in a month."

Sheena hesitated for a moment. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Wh-why wouldn't I be?"

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, but I wanted to give you the chance." At an impulse, she took the girl's hand. "You're my friend. I care a lot about you. And I feel really awful about hurting you."

"I know," Colette said. "And you're my friend. This is about Lloyd, isn't it?"

Sheena nodded, "Yes."

"You care about him."

"I love him."

"So do I."

"I know that," Sheena said. "When I tried to assassinate you, it was because I believed only one of our worlds could be saved. You proved me wrong. Together, we found a way for everyone to be happy, for both of _us_ to be happy. Not this time. One of us will be heartbroken. We can't both have him.

Colette became very quiet. "I'm not just going to give him to you."

"I wouldn't expect you to. But I'm not giving him up either," Sheena said.

"So what are we saying? May the best woman win?"

"It's clichéd, but, yes."

"So friends no matter what?"

Sheena's smile faded. "I hope so."

■□■□■

Lloyd awoke before dawn, a feat most unusual for the young man whose fits of brooding often kept him up until first light weighing the progress of his quest or wondering if he were doing enough to honor those who died because of him. He had slept well last night, considering the impending doom of his home village, feelings for Sheena that needed sorting out, and concern for Colette's fainting spell. He hoped it wasn't a relapse of AT. He didn't have time to gather the ingredients for another cure. He could always gather them later, after Iselia had been saved and assuming they both lived through it.

"Sheena," he whispered her name and cursed his own. Why did he have to ruin their friendship by nearly kissing her? The thought of her suffering because of him had been unbearable, and every fiber of his being cried out to comfort her. The moment had over­whelmed his good sense. _Good sense. What a joke! _She must be furious. He wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to see him again. She'd stay through the present conflict. She wasn't one to abandon her friends. But afterwards, she'd probably retreat back to Mizuho and never talk to him again. It felt like he'd just been punched. He wanted to cry and throw up at he same time.

He thought back to their last visit to Mizuho. With a wave and a smile, Sheena had disappeared into Chief Igaguri's house, leaving Lloyd to amuse himself for what he knew would be several hours. That was okay. He knew the village well enough to be comfortable and decided to find Vice-chief Tiga and Orochi. The two men had helped immensely on the world regeneration journey, and he was in the early stages of developing a friendship with them both. (Friendships, like everything else here, took a long time to develop.) He saw them in the southwestern corner of the village, examining the crops. There hadn't been much rain the past year, and he knew they were concerned. Before he could reach them, however, he ran into Hikari. He knew the six-year-old from previous visits as a ball of energy who was well on her way to becoming official keeper of Mizuho's Secret Book of gossip.

"Name yourself!" she demanded, assuming a fighting stance and drawing twin wooden sai.

"Tell me your name," Lloyd answered, "and I'll tell you mine." He also assumed a fighting stance, but did not touch his swords.

She dropped her stance, laughing. "Hiya, Lloydie."

"Hey, Kari. What's new?" He mentally kicked himself. If you gave this girl too much of an opening, she could regale you with all the embarrassing gossip from Hima to Asgard. He quickly added, "How's your training?"

Ignoring his question, she said, "I got a secret. Wanna hear it? Huh? Do ya?"

Lloyd played along. "I dunno. Is it about someone else? It's not very nice to talk behind people's backs."

She shook her head. "No, no, no. It's about you."

"About me?"

"Uh-huh."

His curiosity was actually piqued. "Okay, sure."

"Umm, I dunno. Maybe I shouldn't."

"Come on, that's not fair. You have to tell me."

"No, not going to." She started to walk away, and then turned around, bursting into laughter. "You should have seen the look on your face."

"All right, Kari. You got me. Is there a secret or not?"

"Uh-huh. Come here. I'll whisper it to you."

Lloyd acquiesced.

She yelled into his ear, "Next Chief Sheena really wants to tell you her real name."

"Ow! Hey!" Hikari had pulled the same trick before, so he had prepared himself. Still, it kind of hurt. Then he realized what she had said. "Wait, Hikari, Sheena can't tell me that. She can only tell her husband."

"Uh-huh."

"Wait, are you saying..?"

She leaned forward again. "When Sheena tells you her name, you can't tell me, okay? It's not 'lowed."

He had barely begun to mull that over when Hikari ran off to play and the two men he had come this way to see noticed him sitting there rubbing his ear and came over. If they took notice of the girl's loud pronouncement they made no mention.

"Hello, Lloyd," Tiga said. Orochi merely nodded. Lloyd pushed himself to his feet, and returned their greetings.

"I hope the young lady did not cause any permanent damage," Tiga said.

"Huh? What?" Lloyd joked.

After they had exchanged pleasantries, filled one another in on all relevant news—mostly real news with the barest hint of gossip added for spice—and discussed the crops, Lloyd found Hikari's suggestion still niggling at the back of his mind. He broached the topic as subtly as he could.

"How," he asked, "would a Mizuhoan man tell a Mizuhoan woman he liked her?"

"Liked?" Orochi asked.

"Yeah, you know, that he was interested in her, ro-romantically?"

Orochi said nothing, but Tiga laughed with eyes sparkling. "Ah. Are we speaking of anyone in particular?"

"No. The situation is hippo..hypo..."

"Well, Lloyd," Tiga responded, "in our _hypothetical_ situation, the man himself would do nothing."

That was confusing. "Then how would she know?"

"Patience, my young friend. I was just getting to that. He would send a represen­tative, called a _daihyo_, in his place. If the woman is interested, she will appoint her own daihyo to begin negotiations."

"Negotiations?"

"Yes. All communications must be conducted through the daihyo for one year."

"All communications? Can't we—I mean, the man and woman talk?"

Tiga nodded. "Certainly they can talk, but only in the presence of the daihyo."

"That sounds pretty inconvenient for the daihyo," Lloyd said.

"It is a high honor to be chosen as a daihyo. It implies a great level of trust and friendship."

"I guess so, but this all sounds pretty complicated."

Tiga nodded. "Matters of the heart are often complicated."

Orochi added sternly, "It is not a process to be entered into lightly. Therefore, it must be complicated."

"That's certainly different from what I've heard before," Lloyd said. "Zelos said I should—I mean, he, that is, the hyponautical guy, should just kiss her."

"No!" Orochi said, "No, he should not. It would be dishonoring to her family."

"What my exuberant friend means, Lloyd, is that in our culture matters of the heart are sacred. As sacred as martial arts. As sacred as life itself. They should not be entered into lightly, nor without a person's _explicit_ consent."

"So kissing her would be an insult," Lloyd said.

In the present, Lloyd was finding it very difficult not to be sick. He thought the fresh air might settle his stomach, but the fear of losing Sheena couldn't be cured with fresh air. He disappeared around the back of Colette's house in search of a place he could vomit without attracting too much attention. He hopped the back fence and disappeared into the woods

Minutes later, he heard Sheena's voice at the fence. "Lloyd, are you all right? Are you sick?"

He couldn't answer over the retching.

Shena hopped the fence and took up a position a few feet behind him, helping him to his feet when he was finished.

She slipped his arm over her shoulder. "Hey, you feel better now?" When he nodded, she said, "Let's go get you some water."

"Sheena, wait. About last night."

"Yes?" she said. _Yes! I thought it would take him a year to mention this. I just hope he washes his mouth before he tries to kiss me again._

"It was a mistake."

"Wh-What?"

"I promise, it'll never happen again."

He felt her stiffen noticeably. _Oh, no. She's not going to forgive me._ "I'm sorry, Sheena. I wish I could take it back. Could we maybe forget it ever happened?"

"Sure, Lloyd. Let's forget it."

"Thanks, Sheena," he said, relieved, "You're the best."

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	8. Yawa og, Enair, Enair

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 8: Yawa Og, Enair, Enair  
_**

Raine Sage dusted the shelves in her mother's house for the third time that day. Housework had never been her strong suit, but these last two weeks posing as a maid in her mother's house had seen her adroitness steadily increase until she could boast a rudimentary understanding of the principles of home economics. A _very_ rudimentary understanding. She had tried viewing it as a science to be studied, but, no matter how she dressed it up, housework couldn't compare to archaeology. At least, she supposed, she could give Genis a hand when she got home.

_Why don't you do the wash today, Raine, now that you know how?_

_I'll be glad to, Genis, as long as I can also cook._

_I'll do the wash._

Ha! On second thought, it might be best to keep her newfound ability to herself. It would serve as his punishment for not coming with her. Besides, she wouldn't want him losing his touch.

"You're getting better, Enair."

Raine lowered her feather duster, careful to keep it away from her nose so as to avoid another sneezing fit. That much, at least, she'd mastered. She turned toward the source of the voice, a silver-haired elf holding a doll to her chest as tenderly as if it were an infant. In her stress-addled mind, it was.

"Thank you, Virginia," Raine said.

"But you've still got a ways to go," Virginia continued. "I've half a mind to cut your pay."

Raine grimaced. _I thought I was doing well._

"When my husband Kloitz gets home, I'll talk to him about it."

_Father. _Raine had been quite young when her parents had abandoned her. She'd found her mother, unbalanced as she was, but her father was long dead. She wished she could remember him better. She had hoped to find a picture of him among her mother's possessions. Thus far, no such luck.

"Oh, don't be sad," Virginia said, "I was only joking. You _are_ improving, and I'm very proud of you."

After three sharp raps, the front door opened. There were no locks on Virginia's door. That would be dangerous. The half-elf brunette that peeked in through the doorway was all smiles.

"Sorry to intrude. Raine, there's a visitor for you, and a cute one at that."

_Cute? Is it Zelos?_ Raine wondered. She began to respond, but was interrupted by her mother. "Silly, Raine is only a child. She's too young for visitors."

"Of course, Virginia. My mistake," the half-elf said, "I meant to speak to Enair."

"Oh, all right then."

"I'll be back to do the wash later, Virginia," Raine said.

"Good-bye, dear."

Raine took a final look at her rag doll stand-in before she shut the door. _Someday I'll get through to you, Mother. But until then, this is enough._

■□■□■

"Lloyd, I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Professor Sage," Lloyd said, standing as she entered. Etiquette hadn't been one of the subjects taught in the Iselia school. He'd had to rely on Zelos's (mostly unwanted) lessons on courtly manners for that. "Stand when a lady enters the room!" "Don't use the salad fork for the entrée!" "Place the _folded_ napkin in your lap. Don't tuck it in your collar." After the dinner party in Meltokio, he hadn't shut up about it for weeks. But the standing when a lady entered, that stuck with him. It seemed right somehow. He wondered if Dad stood when Mom entered a room. His memories of that period were pretty hazy. He was suddenly conscious of the weight of Kratos's locket and chain around his neck, a comforting weight.

He set down his coffee cup—the half-elf elder made a great cup of coffee—and grasped her hand firmly. "It's good to see you," he said.

"You could have written, you know."

"Not really."

"Oh no. You do know how to write, don't you? Please tell me I taught you _that _much!"

Lloyd shrunk back. The intensity in her eyes made him uneasy. "Of course you did. I only meant I didn't know where to send the letters."

"Lloyd, I do still have a house in Iselia."

"Sorry, Professor, I never thought about that. Hey, what did you mean by 'that much?'"

"Oh, never mind. How did you find Exire?"

"Genis lent me his tracker."

"I guess that means the little jerk didn't come with you."

"No, just me. I'm alone." He looked away as he spoke, realizing the full impact of his words.

"Lloyd, is something wrong? You have a sad look in your eyes."

"Yeah, Professor," Lloyd said. _Two things, _he thought, _but I'll focus on the one we can do something about._ "There's trouble in Iselia."

■□■□■

** Note:** This is really more of a half chapter. Call me superstitious, but I wanted to have an even number of chapters before the start of the new year.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	9. Tag, you're it!

_Inscription on the wall in the Temple of Wind:_ "Stands before the law court and gazes up at the power of the judge."

_Interpretation:_ Copyright violation will be prosecuted.

_Application:_ Be like me. Admit NAMCO owns TOS and you're not profiting from your stories.

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 9: Tag, you're it!_**

"Loople-do."

Most of the children in the plaza outside the Altamira hotel stared blank-facedly at the girl wearing the Klonoa costume. Her appearance fit the part perfectly. Pink haired with clear blue eyes, she was very cute. Her voice, though, could not have been more unsuitable. Her "Wahoo! Wahoo!" was dull and listless.

"Mommy, she's not as good as the Klonoa yesterday."

"Hush, Jo. You're being rude."

One child watched her as if in a trance, and as the crowd began to disperse, children tugging parents toward the railway—"C'mon, we gotta go to the 'musement park!"—he walked forward, hugged the girl and said, "I love you, Klonoa," before getting red in the face and running away.

Lloyd smiled broadly as he watched the scene from across the plaza. When the last child was out of eyesight and her duties as mascot were ostensibly over, Presea turned toward him, and returned his smile.

When he had closed the gap between them, she, with the barest hint of a blush, said, "Hello, Lloyd. How are you?"

"Hey, Presea. I didn't know you were still Altamira's mascot."

"I don't do it all the time. The usual mascot is sick, and I still have the costume."

"Not for long," Lloyd said. "Looks like you're already growing out of it."

"That is incorrect. I have grown only three centimeters since we last met."

"Oh, well, still..."

"But," she said, "I appreciate the sentiment."

Lloyd related to her an abbreviated form of yesterday's war council, leaving out Zelos's concerns about Regal, and speaking in a hushed tone. The plaza was not the best location for the transmittal of sensitive information. Her costume, too, was a problem, encouraging sporadic interruptions by children, arms outstretched, seeking hugs or parents gushing over her cuteness (But, woe unto the cheek-pinchers!).

To avoid further interruptions, Presea slipped into the hotel to change into her regular clothes. While she was gone, Lloyd realized that this was the first time he'd ever been alone with her. He'd talked with her privately on occasion and about fairly intimate subjects, his feelings about the women in the group, for example. But there had always been another party member (usually Genis) not more than twenty paces off. There were others in the plaza now, such as the aforementioned Klonoa fans, but they were strangers. Come to think of it, he'd never been alone with other members of the group as well: Zelos, Regal, the Professor until today. He'd been alone with Genis and Colette, but he'd grown up with them. So that didn't count. He'd been alone, truly alone, with Sheena a lot in the past year. The rheiards allowed them to journey from place to place quickly, so they could almost always reach an inn before nightfall. Sometimes, though, they camped to save money. It was nice. He liked it. Before he could think any more about it, Presea exited the hotel.

"The only assuredly private place in Altamira is Regal's Office."

"Good idea, Presea. Let's head there as quickly as possible."

As quickly as possible, it turned out, was nearly twenty minutes. Presea explained that the rail car was always packed after a mascot appearance. But the delay was time well spent. By the time he made it to Lezareno's main lobby, he had learned two inter­esting pieces of intel. First, the rebuilt Palmacosta, taking a nod from Luin, had placed in its center square three magnificent statues. The subject of one was Colette, the Chosen of Sylvarant having become a symbol of civic pride and ammunition for the heretofore friendly rivalry between Tethe'allans and the inhabitants of Sylvarant. Another statue was of Genis, who was an honorary student of Palmacosta Academy, a political advo­cate, and renowned for his conduct in resisting Desian Grand Cardinal Magnius's attempt to execute Cacao. A plaque at the base of this statue dedicated it to him and to the young man Magnius had murdered with his bare hands. Stanley had been his name. The final statue portrayed Regal sans shackles and Presea standing amid the rubble of old Palmacosta, tools in hand, helping to rebuild. The statue, she told him, was not symbolic. Every weekend for the better part of six months, Regal and Presea had worked hand-in-hand with common laborers to rebuild the city a brick at a time.

This led to the second piece of intel. "Altamira to Palmacosta is a long journey by foot. Does that mean," Lloyd asked, "that you still have rheiards?"

"Yes," Presea said, "two of them."

As the elevator gate clicked open on the President's office, Presea noticed Regal's appearance. His hair was matted down and sweat-slicked. It had been tied back earlier when she had found him praying at Alicia's grave. Now it flowed freely, having been taken down, if his expression were any indication, in frustration. Papers were thrown about haphazardly on the desk and piled in crates on the floor. He was staring intently at one paper and tapping it with his pen, while mumbling to himself, "If I balance it with last quarter's expenditures, then our profit margin...Yes, that's the key."

Presea entered cautiously so as to avoid interrupting his concentration. She was about to advise Lloyd to do likewise when he called out, "Hey, Regal!"

Regal's pen and mouth dropped. "I...just forgot everything."

■□■□■

After seeing Lloyd off, Sheena had not returned to the village. She didn't want to speak to anyone, especially Colette after their little "arrangement" that morning. Instead, she walked along the path toward the Martel Temple. She made no noise as she walked, more out of habit that any concern for safety. Monsters were now rare on this path, but she had brought a holy bottle just in case. So far, there had been no need to open it. She thought about seeing if Verius would appear to her in the temple. When he was Corrine, Verius had been the one person with whom she could talk about anything. He was the one person she could talk to about the conflict presently in her heart. But she passed by the temple steps without hesitation. With the renovations in full swing, she'd have to converse with a handful of people before she reached the seal room. She might go in on her way back, but for now she had another purpose in mind. She was going to make a wish tag.

Like most Mizuhoan traditions, the wish tag dated back thousands of years. Whenev­er a member of the village had a very important wish, he could inscribe it upon a small wooden tag, which he would pray over, and then carry until the wish came true or was denied. Afterwards, he would break the tag and cast its halves into a stream or creek, whose running water symbolically carried his thanks to Mizuho's god. If he kept the tag with him, he would be visited with bad luck.

When she reached the small grove of trees a quarter mile past the temple stairway, she drew a hatchet from her bag and set to work removing a chunk of the wood. She then used a pocket knife to fashion it into a wooden tag. The short sword she received as village successor was not meant for hatchet work. "Better to save swords for flesh and bone than dull them on wood," someone once told her. Had it been Kratos? It didn't sound like something Lloyd would say. Lloyd. She supposed she could have gotten him to create the tag when he got back. But he might be too curious. Plus, she didn't want him going through the trouble of crafting something she'd someday break. He had been practically heartbroken when Presea had broken the wish tag he made for her.

She had struggled long and hard with what to put on the tag. She thought about variations on, "Give Lloyd to me," or "Help me win his heart," but they all seemed too selfish. Besides, she didn't want to force Lloyd to love her. At last she settled upon the appropriate prayer, one that expressed the true intentions of her heart. She began carving on the tag's face. M-A-K-E L-L-O-Y-D H-A-P-P

As she was tracing the "Y" the knife slipped and sliced into her forefinger. The cut wasn't deep, but she tasted a fair amount of blood when she put the finger in her mouth. No matter. It was nothing to waste a gel over. Anyway, she needed to finish the tag if she expected it to be effective. As she took up the knife to finish the carving, she noticed some of her blood had seeped into the lettering. She recalled an old supersti­tion. When one was especially earnest about a wish, he could take a blood oath by smearing his blood upon the wish tag. Once he did so, he was bound to work for the completion of the oath no matter the personal cost. It appeared she had unintentionally made this oath.

But, wait. No, she hadn't. The "Y" was unfinished, and she had yet to recite her prayer. If she wanted, she could still cancel the oath.

_...What if Colette can make him happy? You'd be bound—..._

_I know. I'd be bound not to stand in their way._

_...You'd be bound to _help _them get together..._

_It would tear my heart out._

_...Don't do it. Think about yourself for once..._

_Love does not seek its own. _The thought reverberated in her mind, stronger than the voice of Mithos, stronger even than her own uncertainties. _I love Lloyd. And no matter what, I want him to be happy. Dying for him would be easy. Then I'd always have a place in his heart, a place no one could supplant. But could I live without him?_

She finished the "Y," smeared blood across the rest of the letters, and prayed. "I want Lloyd to be happy, no matter what the cost. And I will do everything I can to see it happen." She held the tag close to her heart. "And if it's not too much to ask, let me have some measure of happiness, too."

Mithos had fallen silent again, and a warmness filled Sheena's heart. She wrapped the tag in a cloth and tucked it into her bag. She had been walking back toward the village for some time, taking it rather slowly, when a barely audible whirring came from overhead. She looked up to find Raine headed toward Iselia. When the half-elf noticed Sheena, she landed, putting her rheiard away. The women embraced, and walked the final quarter mile back to the village together, conversing the whole way. Sheena would see Verius another day. She didn't mind. Her need to talk to him was no longer so pressing.

■□■□■

Besides the pleasant surprise of seeing Lloyd again, Regal was glad for an excuse to put aside his work for an afternoon. The upcoming reunification festival was costing more than he had anticipated. And his company's resources were stretched danger­ously thin due to the controversy surrounding his very public refusal to deal in Exsphere-related ventures and the massive expense of rebuilding cities damaged during reunification. Business partnerships had been made in these cities, but they were long-term investments which had yet to yield returns equal to the expenditures. The merchant fees from the festival would help the company just about break even. Next year would be better. He was certain.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd," Regal said after the swordsman had explained the situation. "I have been too occupied with company business to pay much attention to court politics. I have failed in my vigilance."

"I didn't come here to blame you, Regal."

"Ah, of course not. What would you like me to do?"

"All right," Lloyd said, "I knew you could be trusted."

"My trust was in doubt?"

"No, well, not by me anyway. Zelos just mentioned, since you were a duke and all..."

"Zelos...hmm. Did you remind him he was of a higher nobility than me?"

"I think I did." Lloyd scratched his head.

"And did you question _his_ loyalty?"

"I don't...he, that is...the king signed his death warrant..."

"I see." Regal had closed his eyes, and was rubbing his chin. That was much better than the piercing gaze he was directing Lloyd's way only moments ago.

"And I never doubted you, Regal, not for a second."

"That is good to hear." Regal sighed, "Zelos is right, though."

"You're not going to try to capture me, are you?" Lloyd asked. He eyed Presea warily.

"What?"

"Uh, never mind."

"I cannot help you openly. Any visible support would jeopardize the safety of the cities the Lezareno Company has helped rebuild. Unless..."

Lloyd nodded. "I'm disappointed you won't be joining us, but I understand your reasons." He shook Regal's hand before turning toward the elevator.

"Wait, Lloyd," Regal called out. "You didn't let me finish. While I cannot help you directly in a confrontation with the king, I can provide support and whatever supplies you need for your resistance."

Presea said little during the meeting, preferring to listen. Quietness was her nature, after all, and offering her opinion would have been pointless. Her course had been decided when she heard Lloyd's brief explanation on the way to Lezareno. She would not abandon her friends in their time of need. She owed them her life and would gladly give it should the debt be called due.

While she was absorbed in her thoughts, Lloyd and Regal finished talking. Lloyd offered his thanks, and strode past her to the elevator. She called out to him, but he didn't notice. That was just like Lloyd. Once he determined a course of action, he imme­diately set out to do it, ignoring everything else. Zelos would call that thickheaded. Presea called it dedicated.

She heard the elevator go up to the roof, Lloyd curse, "Damn, wrong button," and the elevator go back down to the lobby. She watched Regal closely, trying to determine what he was feeling and how he would react when she told him she was leaving. It was no good. How could she detect another's feelings, even a friend's, when she was just learning to detect her own. And, make no mistake, Regal _was_ her friend. And the best connection she had to Alicia. She had learned so much about the final years of her sister's life during the previous months. There was much more she wanted to know, but she had to go.

"Regal I—," Presea said.

"I know, Presea. Go after him. Take one of the rheiards."

"Thank you, Regal."

"You'd better hurry."

As he watched Presea go, he smiled. _Alicia always looked up to you, Presea. She would be proud. Good luck, and good luck to you, Lloyd._

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	10. A punch in the right direction

**Disclaimer: **NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author 

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 10: A punch in the right direction_**

The plan had been formulating in Zelos's mind and his fingers periodically wiggling in anticipation since he'd first seen Raine and Sheena enter the room hand-in-hand. It had been the first thought to pop into his head—okay, the second. The first, a fantasy involving him, the half-elf, the ninja, the hot springs, and a slippery bar of soap, had been quickly filed away for later usage when he'd seen the tears in Sheena's eyes. "I'm just happy to see Raine, is all," had been her explanation. Zelos didn't buy it for a second. Well, okay, maybe for the second that his mind had been transitioning from his sudsy fantasy back to harsh, fully-clothed reality. But only that second.

His eyes stole quick, furtive glances at his quarry, located in the vicinity of Raine's midsection. Thoughts, pleasant but distracting, assailed him when his gaze lingered there too long. _Focus_, he reminded himself. He had hoped she would relieve herself of her bags when she entered. What kind of person kept her bags with her when she entered a _friend's_ house? It's not as if anything would get stolen. He realized the absurdity of that thought almost immediately. Here he was planning to pilfer something from Raine's bag while mentally berating her for being overly cautious. She was probably following suit with Sheena, though. He had noticed Sheena's reluctance to part with her bag right away. It was still with her as she sat at the table, clutched protectively to her chest as if something important were inside. Part of him wanted to see what it was. Did curiosity compel him? In part. But there was more. He longed for her confidence. He would give anything for her to share something with him, something close to her heart. Damn, he was getting sappy. He massaged his temples. _Think philandering thoughts. Think philandering thoughts. Sheena naked. Raine naked. Colette naked. Sheena, Raine, and Colette naked together. Ah, much better._ He let out an audible sigh.

With that, he decided to let Sheena have her privacy, for the time being. Besides, it would be difficult enough to part one of the ladies from her bag, let alone both of them. He looked through the window at the position of the sun. Already shadows were beginning to fall. If Raine didn't drop the bag soon... He regarded her for a moment, taking note of her ever present coat. No matter how hot the temperature became, she was never without a coat of some sort. Only when she took part in that weird Asgardian ceremony or when she was on the beach (and not always them) did she remove it. Raine was the type of person who wanted to be ready to leave at a moment's notice off on another archaeological adventure. He had a sudden image of her wearing a wide-brimmed fedora and brown leather jacket, swinging a bull whip. Genis was beside her, wearing a blue and white baseball cap and shouting, "You cheated, Dr. Raine!" Zelos shook his head, not really sure where that image came from.

Zelos decided to force the issue. "Ladies," he said, rising from the table, "Please allow me to take your luggage."

Sheena flinched. "Th-that's okay, Zelos."

He shrugged. "And what about you, my glamorous beauty? It will be my pleasure, and hospitality demands it."

"Hospitality, eh?" Raine muttered. She began to acquiesce, but reconsidered. "This isn't your home, Zelos."

He didn't pause for an instant. "That is but a triviality. A good host is a good host no matter whose house he is in."

She seemed to accept this, or was too tired to argue the point further. Zelos took the bag, turned, and, with a quick movement, slipped his hand inside, found what he was hunting for, and withdrew. Hiding it quickly, he laid the bag by the door.

"I'm going to go see how Colette's doing," he called out, and exited the building. The last thing he saw as the door shut was Sheena biting her lip in an attempt to stop her tears.

■□■□■

The first thing he saw as he emerged into the light of early evening was Colette smiling and singing a little song to herself. Zelos frowned grimly. Sheena's tears were giving Colette the wrong message. That happiness, which thrilled Zelos to no end, would soon dissipate once Lloyd got his feelings straight, his act together, and finally told Sheena he loved her. Once Colette was close enough to discern his features clearly, he smiled, and engaged her in brief conversation, both to gauge the truth of his suspicions—he was right, her happiness came from the misunderstanding between Lloyd and Sheena—and to make his statement to the ladies inside true. After a few moments, with a wave and a smile and a fabricated excuse, he took his leave of her.

Outside the village, he removed the item of Raine's he had lifted, a small square packet, with magic spells sewn within and without, clasped together with obsidian in­hibitor ore. It was a wing pack, a special case that could carry any number of large vehicles. He held it in front of him, opened the clasp, and allowed the violet-colored rheiard to take shape.

_Now_, he thought, _to find that idiot Lloyd._

■□■□■

Back at Colette's house, Raine was busy comforting Sheena, listening to her "I don't know why I'm blubbering like this. I already decided to do what's best for Lloyd." Raine mentally chided herself at her inability to fully sympathize with her friend's plight. But her thoughts were on Zelos. She took a quick glance at her bag and frowned. _If the idiot wanted to borrow my rheiard, he could've simply asked._

■□■□■

The concept of your life flashing before your eyes right before you die was a part dwarven lore, but that's not where Lloyd learned it. In point of fact, it wasn't one of the primary vows, nor was its veracity as hotly defended as those vows. He was pretty sure, actually, that his dad Dirk considered it mere superstition. So it was no surprise that Lloyd's first exposure to the idea came from the same place that most young boys learned those pithy axioms that define their lives well into adulthood: the schoolyard. Specifically, he learned it from Jerry, a boy several years older who once related the eerie tale of his grandfather's death. In the last hour before the man's passing, he, according to Jerry, had spoken about the events of his life, his eyes vacant focusing on something that wasn't there, as if he were watching the events play out in front of him. When Lloyd had remarked that one hour before death isn't really _right before_, Jerry shrugged. "He was old. It took him longer to do everything. It practically took him a whole hour to use the bathroom."

Lloyd missed Jerry. He was always good for a spooky story or an old folk saying. But there was one thing, pertinent to what was going on at that exact moment, that Lloyd never learned from him—what flashes before your eyes right before a good friend punches you in the jaw. As luck would have it, Lloyd was about to find out firsthand.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

Lloyd picked himself up off the ground, and dusted off his shirt. "Zelos, what are you doing?"

Zelos pushed him back down into the dirt. "You've hurt two women very badly today!"

"What?"

"You've been jerking Colette around for two years, and now whatever you said to Sheena's given Colette false hope."

"False hope for what?" He shook his head. Zelos wasn't making any sense.

"That you love her."

"I do love her."

"Romantically, idiot!"

"No way. Colette's like a sister to me."

"She doesn't seem to think so."

Lloyd tried to rise, and Zelos pushed him down again. "And now Sheena's crying her eyes out over whatever you said to her. I swear if you don't go back there right now—"

"Aw, I knew it. She hates me."

"No, Lloyd. She loves you. What did you say to her, anyway?"

"I apologized."

"For what?"

"Last night at Colette's I was about to kiss her."

"You kissed Colette?" Zelos curled his hand into a fist.

"No!" Lloyd said, "Sheena! And I didn't kiss her. I only _almost_ kissed her. I didn't mean to dishonor her."

"Dishonor?"

"Yeah. Tiga and Orochi said—"

"Forget Tiga and Orochi. One's an old prude, and the other's a brainwashed good little soldier who's probably in love with Sheena himself."

"That's kind of harsh."

"What exactly did you say to her?"

"I said, 'Forget it ever happened.'"

"You idiot," Zelos said, fuming, "Do you realize how that sounds? It's like you think kissing her was a mistake."

"I didn't kiss her, and it was a mistake! It would have dishonored her."

"It sounds like you didn't _want_ to kiss her, like you don't care about her."

"That's not what I meant."

"So tell her."

Lloyd sighed. "I...will."

"Go. Now."

"But I have to call in backup. I have to go to Sybak and—"

"And Mizuho and Palmacosta, I know. I'll go in your place."

"Zelos—"

"Do you love her?"

Lloyd paused, gathering his thoughts and emotions. He knew the answer almost immediately, but he had to be sure before saying it. What was being asked for was not a simple declaration of affection. It wasn't Genis asking him to tell Colette, "I love you," to snap her out of her living lifelessness. Zelos was asking Lloyd to say he loved Sheena like Kratos had loved his mother. He wanted to know if Lloyd loved Sheena more than life itself. Lloyd found he could honestly give only one answer.

"Yes."

Zelos smiled. "That's what I was waiting to hear." He held out a hand to Lloyd, and helped him to his feet. "Go to her," he said. "We may have a few days to live. You don't want Sheena to die feeling like this. Life isn't worth it if you don't have the ones you love."

"Zelos," Lloyd said, "thank you. It seems you're always helping me go after Sheena."

"She's a wonderful woman. I want her to be happy." He broke into a wide grin. "Now get out of here, ya slacker. Go!"

■□■□■

**Omake (an OOC humorous look at how a scene from this chapter might have occurred):**

_Zelos asked, "Do you love her?"_

_Lloyd paused, gathering his thoughts and his emotions. He knew the answer almost immediately, but he had to be sure before saying it. What was being asked for was not a simple declaration of affection. It wasn't Genis asking him to tell Colette, "I love you," to snap her out of her living lifelessness. Zelos was asking him to say he loved Sheena like Kratos had loved his mother. He wanted to know if Lloyd loved Sheena more than life itself. Lloyd searched his feelings and consulted his thoughts. Then he consulted his hormones. He scratched his arm, and reflected on how that felt. He cracked his neck, alleviating some of the tension there._

_Zelos waited and waited, glancing at his watch._ How long is it going to take him? I've never taken this long to discover my feelings about a girl. Hell, I've had entire relationships that haven't lasted this long.

_Lloyd opened his mouth to say something, and then paused. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully._

_Zelos slowly threaded his fingers around Lloyd's slender neck, and, ever so gently, began to throttle him. "Say it, damn you, say it!"_

_"I-I...urk...!"_

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	11. Sheena, I love you

If every copy of TOS save mine were destroyed, the warehouse in which the original artwork is stored were burned to the ground, all reference to it were removed from the worldwide web by a catastrophic EMP, and everybody at NAMCO Tales Studio were stricken with amnesia and could remember nothing about the game, according to U.S. copyright law, I still wouldn't own it.

**Disclaimer:** NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 11: Sheena, I love you._**

As Suzumebachi lay dying, he could only hope his message reached Mizuho. For three months he had posed as a jailer in the king of Meltokio's dungeon, and for one month he had guarded its most important prisoner—His Majesty's half-brother, the pope, deposed head of Tethe'alla's Church of Martel. It had been a dream assignment, something the young Mizuhoan spy could only credit to his family status. He certainly didn't have the experience or, he now reflected grimly, the skill for such a high-level task. But it seemed that all the top level ninjas, like the Hebi brothers, had their covers blown. Orochi was becoming as well known as Sheena, and Kuchinawa had betrayed them all. _Sorry, Next Chief Sheena. Despite your wishes, I can't seem to forgive him._ He thought about her for a moment. She had been present when he was given this assignment.

"I don't know if I can do this, Next Chief."

"You'll do fine." She took on a slightly pompous tone, as if imitating a long-winded elder, when she said, "Keep your head down, and your wits up." Then she laughed, a lively sound full of vigor.

_Careful, Suzumebachi, or you'll find yourself falling in love with her._

"Sorry," she blushed, "that's what the vice chief told me when I was sent to assassinate the Chosen. And I'm still not sure what it means." She scrunched up her nose. "Don't tell him I made fun of him, okay?"

"N-no, of course not, Next Chief. I would never—"

"Oh, don't be hurt. I was just joking with you. You know, I was your age when I was sent on that mission. I had much less experience and was far less qualified."

"I'm sure that's not true, Next Chief. You could summon and—"

"I told you, call me Sheena, and it _is_ true. You'll do fine. Just be sure and come back safely, okay? I'll need a lot of brave men like you to help me when I become chief, Suzumebachi."

He had been thankful his face mask was in place when he heard her say his name. That way she couldn't see the tremendous smile that covered his face. _Sigh._ He was such a fanboy.

He closed his eye as tears formed. _I'm sorry I disappointed you, Next Chief. But if I've helped you out just a little bit, my life has been worthwhile._

■□■□■

Lloyd rested a hand on Colette's door. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to knock. He had dismissed his fear that Zelos was wrong and Sheena didn't love him. Within a week, they could very well be dead, and, whatever her feelings, he had to know. But another fear assailed him. What if he saw Colette first? Lloyd had never been very good at hiding his emotions, and he really had no idea what to say to her. Sheena might claim to admire the earnest way he lived his life, but Lloyd knew all too well that his tendency to be guided by heart rather than head could be dangerous. He'd already hurt a lot of people that way, and he didn't want Colette to become one of them. He sighed. Things sure were simpler when he was oblivious.

He shut his eyes and took a long deep breath. He shouldn't put it off any longer. He curled his hand into a fist and prepared to knock.

"Lloyd, hi!"

_Colette. Damn._ _Options? Pretend I didn't hear her and open the door? Maybe Sheena's inside. Or accept the inevitable and talk to her? But I can't just come out and say I don't like her. That would be rude. She'd run away crying, and I'd have to follow and comfort her. I don't have time for that. _

"Are you finished rounding up support already? That was fast, Lloyd. You're pretty amazing."

She was beside him now, too close to pretend he hadn't heard. _Sheena, help!_

Lloyd turned to face her, forcing himself to smile. "No, sorry, I haven't finished yet. Zelos took my place. I had something to take care of here."

"Oh, did you want to help Dirk and Genis with the village fortifications? I can take you to them."

"No, that's not why I'm back. But I'll help later if I get the chance."

"Did you want to see me, Lloyd? That's why you were at my door, right?" She grabbed his hand and began pulling him inside. "Come on, I'll get you a glass of water, and we can talk."

Lloyd groaned. The look of expectation in her eyes wasn't making things any easier. "I'm always happy to see you, Colette..."

She was practically beaming, and for a moment he noticed the faint pink glow of her angelic wings. "Thank you, Lloyd. You're so sweet."

"But I have to..." he rubbed his head and chuckled nervously." You haven't seen Sheena around, have you?"

"Sh-Sheena?"

"Yeah, I kinda need to tell her something."

Colette frowned. _Can't you see she's no good for you, Lloyd? Her responsibilities as chief will always take her attention away from you, but I'll give you _all _my heart!_ It was then that she decided to tell him everything. The thought scared her, but the realization that she could, by the end of the day, have Lloyd for her very own overruled her fear and silenced her doubts. She was just about to speak when a flash of lavender caught her eye. Sheena had just walked past the school and was heading this way. Suddenly, Colette could not remember how to talk.

■□■□■

Sheena wiped at her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, smudging the buildup of dust and soot from two hours of hard work. The physical labor hadn't taken her mind off her troubles as she'd hoped. To the contrary, working so closely with Dirk only served to remind her of Lloyd. Though the dwarf shared no blood with his foster son, his influence on the young man was considerable. Loyalty, perseverance, courage—these all he had learned from his dad. Even the way he moved evidenced him as the dwarf's son. While watching Dirk swing his hammer, Sheena had recognized the origins of some of Lloyd's basic sword moves. When she found herself paying more attention to Dirk than to her work and unconsciously beginning to size him up as a potential father-in-law, she knew it was time to get out of there.

So caught up was she in her thoughts, that she had almost reached Colette's porch before she noticed Lloyd standing there. Merely seeing him caused her heart to skip a beat. Giving him up might be harder than she thought. Then she realized whom he was with—Colette. And he was laughing and rubbing the back of his head. _Embarrassed, maybe. Or happy._

She noticed something else. _Colette, your wings!_

Sheena sighed, a single tear escaping her eye and leaving a trail down her dusty cheek. Where Raine's powerful healing techniques could not help this girl, Lloyd's love, or at least a love for him, could work miracles. Sheena knew the feeling.

Luckily, his back was to her, and she hadn't made any noise. She retreated a few steps to the trail leading north out of the village. Nodding grimly and being careful to attract no attention, she hurried down the trail. _If this is what you want, my love, then I'll help you._

■□■□■

Colette eyed the unmoving girl with an unwavering glance. _Humph. Stand there if you want, Sheena. I'll still tell him._

Curious at Colette's behavior, Lloyd turned his head in the direction of her gaze and caught a brief flash of lavender moving rapidly up the trail toward the Martel Temple. _Sheena!_ He called out her name and started after her.

"But Lloyd, I...wait!" Colette's lip trembled and tears fell from her eyes. This was going badly, very badly, not at all how she imagined. She had to stop him. If only she could confess her love, he would do the same—she was certain. Then they would lock eyes, hug, and maybe even kiss. What was happening? Why was everything going so wrong? "I...I love you."

Lloyd's heart tugged him in two directions. He had to follow Sheena, and quickly, before she outdistanced him. She could hide in the field for days if she wanted. But he loved Colette too, albeit with a different kind of love, and didn't want to leave her like this. Once she had been the most important person in his life. Love for her, though he hadn't called it love, was the reason he undertook the journey of regeneration. He had wanted to protect her, yes, but it was simpler than that—he just wanted to be near her. On that journey, however, something unexpected happened. He met the most beautiful, amazing person he'd ever known. Before Sheena, he had never been in love, nor known it was even possible to feel as deeply for a person as he felt for her. Reflecting on his life before the journey, he realized that, had he never met Sheena, he very well might have fallen in love with his childhood friend. But, having met Sheena, he knew no one could ever replace her in his heart.

_Can't help them both,_ he realized. _Have to choose._

Slowly, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Colette," he said, and ran after the ninja at full speed. He cursed when he saw Colette fall to her knees and burst into tears, but never for an instant did he doubt he'd made the right decision.

By the time he reached the border of the village, he had lost sight of Sheena. In a flash of brilliant blue, he, for the first time in nearly a year, deployed his wings and took to the sky.

■□■□■

Since her deliverance from the bane of the Angelus Project, Presea had overcome hundreds of foes. For a decade and a half, her experimental Exsphere had left her a prisoner in her own perpetually prepubescent body. _Sixteen years_ on the very cusp of adolescence, adulthood teasing her, enticing her, but always a hand's breadth out of reach, and the whole time, on some level, she was aware of it. The Exsphere dulled her senses; it did not erase them. By the time of her release, everyone she cared for had either died—Alicia and Daddy—or forgotten her. A lullaby half-remembered by a child­hood acquaintance or two was all she left behind as the world had passed her by.

Worse yet, the Exsphere left her an emotional cripple, unable to feel for others, or to understand how they felt for her. Emotions were coming back to her slowly and intermit­tently, and whatever events triggered a particularly powerful emotional response, she treasured. Yesterday's visit from Lloyd had been one such event. Its significance dimin­ished when she learned he had come only to seek her help, but it did not disappear. Fighting alongside him would show him she cared. And fighting was something she could do. One benefit of the Exsphere, the only benefit, it would seem, was the excep­tional strength it gave her. It was this strength that enabled her to defeat the aforemen­tioned hundreds of foes and made her a valuable ally to her friends. But the strength was not precious to her. She would trade it all for full access to her emotions. For, now, more than ever, she needed them.

She had entered Iselia only moments ago, and headed directly for Colette's home, the most logical gathering place for the Chosen's group. Immediately, she was confronted with a heart-broken, sobbing Colette. And she had no idea what to do.

Comforting her was the obvious choice, but how to go about that, other than imitating the manner she'd seen others offer comfort in the past, eluded her. She doubted a pat on the shoulder and a gentle, "There, there," would be sufficient. Still, it was better than doing nothing, so she stepped forward and extended an arm.

"Colette," she said.

The hands the blonde had been using to cover her eyes she dropped, revealing a look of disappointment, bitterness, and a little bit of shock, as if she hadn't been aware she had company. The look unnerved Presea, but in a blink all traces of bitterness were gone from Colette's eyes, and Presea considered the bitterness may not have been there at all. A moment later, Colette launched herself into Presea's arms.

_Good, she will accept my attempts to comfort her._

Presea held Colette for several minutes, listening to the girl's soft sobs and occasion­ally rubbing her back or stroking her hair. Unsure of what else to do, Presea fell back into habits. Extricating herself from the girl's arms, she gripped the handle of her axe. "Who did this to you?" she asked.

She wasn't expecting the answer, and the axe fell to the ground with a dull thud. How could Lloyd claim he cared about Colette and cause her this much grief? If this were the way of friendship, she wasn't sure she wanted any more to do with it.

■□■□■

Lloyd flew for a quarter mile past the temple—Sheena wouldn't want to be around all those people right now—until he reached the small grove where he thought he'd find her. If he knew her as well as he believed, she would hide herself atop one of the higher branches among the trees. He touched down softly, not bothering to retract his wings. He decided not to look for her. There were few trees, but if he ventured into the grove, she'd probably slip past him, and he'd never be able to find her.

"Sheena, please, I have to talk to you."

Sheena, perched on a tree branch, made herself as small as possible. She couldn't see him right now. She just couldn't. And she was a ninja. Her training ensured that if she didn't want to be found she wouldn't. _Go back to her, Lloyd,_ she silently begged. _Be happy. _

"Please." Had she already slipped past him? Maybe she never even made it to the grove.

_I know you don't mean to, but you're really hurting me right now by prolonging this, _she thought.

"We said we'd see this trip through, Sheena; we _promised_ one another. Remember the thousand needle lying penalty? I don't want you to go through that. I care too much about you."

_Lloyd, please stop._

"Okay, if you won't come out, just listen. What I said yesterday morning, I didn't mean. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I wanted to kiss you. Oh boy, did I want to kiss you. But I know that in Mizuho you're not supposed to do that without a dee...a dai..."

"Daihyo," she whispered before she could stop herself. _You want a daihyo? Lloyd, does that mean—?_

"I forget the term, but you know what I'm talking about. I respect your traditions. They're a part of you, and I didn't want to treat them like they didn't matter, because they do matter. Everything about you matters to me, Sheena, because I love you." He paused for a moment; his pulse was pounding so hard he hadn't heard his own confession. Best say it again to be sure. "With all my heart and soul, I love you."

With barely a sound, she landed at the base of the tree. Her legs wobbled; whether it were from the shock of the landing or the raging of her emotions she couldn't be sure. She began walking but ended up running to him. "Lloyd, I..." She didn't finish her state­ment. Her lips found his; her kiss spoke for her.

A full minute later, she stopped to take a breath and found herself encircled in his arms. She fiercely returned the embrace and rested her head on his shoulder.

He began to speak, "I was so stupid. I—"

"Shh." She placed a finger on his lips. "That's in the past. It doesn't matter anymore." She smiled broadly. "Oh, Lloyd, I love you. I've loved you for so long. I will always love you." As soon as she finished speaking, she hid her face and the deep blush that colored it.

Lloyd didn't blush. His huge grin prevented him.

■□■□■

Zelos stood in Chief Igaguri's home rereading the translated message for what seemed like the hundredth time. Things in Meltokio were far worse than he'd imagined.

■□■□■

Lloyd and Sheena sat together beneath the tree she had taken refuge in. His wings along with his arms, encircled her, suffusing the area around them with a soft blue glow.

"Your wings are beautiful."

He blushed. "I'm a man, Sheena. You're supposed to say they're handsome."

She shook her head. "No, wings aren't handsome. They're beautiful. Like you."

"That's kind of embarrassing."

"Too bad. I think they're beautiful, and I think you're beautiful."

"All right, I guess it isn't so bad when it's you saying it."

"Good, and I promise in public I'll only refer to you as cute or handsome. 'Beautiful' will be between us."

"It's okay if I say _you're_ beautiful in public, right?" he said with a grin.

Now, she blushed. "Of course. I expect you to."

"Good, because you are." He was rewarded with another happy smile and a deepen­ing of her blush. He marveled at how gorgeous the simple reddening of her cheeks made her.

"About your wings," she said, "how long are you planning to keep them out?"

"I can't really put them away. I'm too happy."

"Oh," she smiled, "They kind of tickle."

"Heh. Sorry," He moved them away.

"No, don't. They tickle, but it's nice."

"You're weird, Sheena."

She frowned, and her brow creased. But finding that Lloyd was still smiling, she shrugged. "Maybe."

He peeled off his right glove and flexed his fingers, allowing them to breathe. They were damp with a thin coating of sweat, and, when he brought them to her face to trace the outline of her cheek, his index finger left a clearly visible pathway in the dust. "What have you been doing?" he asked.

"Helping your dad prepare fortifications for the attack, of course. When my ...'s village is in trouble, no task is too mundane."

"Your what?"

She couldn't meet his gaze. "My boyfriend."

■□■□■

End Book 1: Gathering the Troops  
To be continued in:  
**The Swordsman and the Summoner  
Book 2: Mizuho Mishap**

**Next:** So, this chapter had the big love confession scene, but the romance is far from over. It may have just officially begun, but there's obstacles a plenty standing in the lovers' way. Problems at home call Sheena back for a quick visit. Lloyd tags along while the others remain in Iselia preparing fortifications.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	12. Mizuho Mishap Part 1

**Disclaimer:** NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. This story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**Book 2: Mizuho Mishap **

**_Chapter 12: Mizuho Mishap, Part 1 _**

"Orochi, I'm warning you—get your damn hands off her."

Lloyd could see disgust and deep hatred etched into the ninja's unmasked face, its usual coverings bunched around his neck, having been cast off in his romantic fervor.

The ninja snarled, "You are unworthy to be near her, Irving. You have shamed—"

"I won't say it again."

"YOU HAVE SHAMED and disgraced our Next Chief."

Lloyd unsheathed his right-handed sword slowly, allowing the blade to scrape along its sheath, eliciting an unpleasant grating sound he hoped would serve as a rallying cry. The ninjas of Mizuho surely could not ignore a sound that nearly always presaged battle. And they would not stand idly by and watch their Next Chief be manhandled, even if the offender be one of their own most trusted warriors. He unsheathed his left-handed sword more slowly still, both to draw out the duration of the blade scrape, and because, in all honesty, moving his left arm caused him great pain. He knew he was in no condition to fight the elite ninja, but, if that son of a bitch hurt Sheena, Lloyd would fight till his last breath to make him pay.

"Sheena, are you all right?"

"Do not talk to her, you unworthy whelp!" Orochi punctuated his words by brief, possibly unconscious, squeezes of Sheena's arm, which he had been holding in a fierce grip. She winced at the pain, but did not cry out.

"Orochi, stop! You're hurting her!"

The ninja noticed what he had done and readjusted his grip so as to apply less pressure on the now tender flesh, but he did not let go.

"I invoke the chal—"

"Orochi, no!"

"Quiet, woman."

"I am not speaking as a _woman_. I am speaking as your _Next Chief_."

"As such," came a voice from behind Lloyd, "you should know better than to interfere in the issuance of a challenge."

Only when he saw Chief Igaguri and Vice Chief Tiga at his side, did Lloyd allow himself a glance backwards. What he saw gave him a new appreciation for his girl­friend's people. He'd been snuck up on by individual ninjas and small groups before. Hell, getting the drop on him seemed to be one of Sheena's favorite pastimes. But he'd just been surrounded by what appeared to be Mizuho's entire adult population, and he hadn't heard a sound.

He sighed in relief. Now that they were here, Sheena would be okay. He smiled until he noticed the look in Sheena's eyes: panic.

"Grandpa, please—" she said.

"You know the tradition, little one. Once a challenge is made, it is up to the one chal­lenged to accept or decline. With _no_ outside interference."

Lloyd scowled. Why weren't they helping her?

"Did you think the villagers would aid you?" Orochi asked. "_I_ have challenged you. To interfere would be to bring dishonor on the entire village."

_Dishonor! Is that all you people care about? What about right and wrong? What about love? Honor is not life._ Lloyd told Sheena he respected her culture, but...sheesh! There were limits.

"Lloyd Irving, do you accept this challenge?" Orochi said.

Lloyd sighed again, not in relief. "Yeah," he said, "I'll fight you."

■□■□■

**Earlier that day**

"Lloyd is my koibito.1 I can hardly believe it!" Sheena had not been able to stop grinning last night, even after Lloyd kissed her good night, and the two engaged in a series of—heh, engaged—blush-inspiring whispered endearments before retiring to their rooms. The group had wisely shuffled around the sleeping arrangements, no one believing it a particularly good idea for either of the new couple to remain in Colette's house. The prospect of being "accidentally" smothered in her sleep by the embittered blonde held little appeal for Sheena. Still, she had considered staying if only to avoid the perception of rudeness toward her hostess. Lloyd, however, insisted. "Staying there will only make you feel bad, Sheena. And I don't want anything to ruin your memory of today." Deliverance came in the form of the Sages. Raine, though she had yet to sleep in her own rebuilt house, forewent the privilege, and took Sheena's place as Colette's bedmate. This house, unlike her old, had separate rooms for the half-elven siblings. A good thing for them since Genis was rapidly approaching the age when sleeping in the same room as his sister would feel awkward, and a good thing for Sheena, since it let her have her own room. Lloyd, meanwhile, had bunked with Genis. Only in the morning did Sheena stop to wonder where Dirk had slept, though she thought it likely he'd remain in the Brunel's guestroom. Colette had no reason to be angry with him.

Raine. The summoner treasured her friendship with the half-elf. She'd never told her, but Raine was the first real female friend she'd ever had. After the tragedy with Volt, most of the girls in Mizuho had avoided her. And the boys were no better. "Stay away from Sheena! She'll kill you like she killed my daddy!" "She's not really Mizuhoan! The chief found her in the forest and felt sorry for her! Her real parents didn't want her! She's an OUTSIDER!" Even after her acceptance and elevation to the position of Successor, she still found it difficult to open up to most of the villagers. That only made her value Raine's friendship all the more. Gaining it had not been easy, Raine not being one to warm up to a former enemy no matter how seemingly repentant. But soon, what started as a mutual dislike had bloomed into, first, a grudging respect and, finally, the deep friendship they shared today. When it came time for her to pick a daihyo, she hoped Raine would consent. Sheena sighed when she realized Raine's acceptance was not assured.

She had known Raine for not quite eighteen months, and the first month of their acquaintance had been spent as enemies. Sheena recalled with a wince a few of the more gruesome injuries the women visited upon one another. Cracked ribs and busted lips abounded. By mutual accord, those were left forgotten in the past. But something else could not be forgotten. Raine had known and cared for Colette far longer than a year and a half. She wasn't certain exactly how long it was since Raine first came to Iselia. Ten years? Genis was thirteen. And he remembered living other places, places where he had been discriminated against. He would have had to have been at least five to remember much. Eight years then, maybe less. However long it had been, it amounted to far longer than she had known Sheena. In a contest—no, she didn't want it to be a contest. She wanted Raine to care for both of them. Hell, _she_ wanted to still be Colette's friend. _Friends, no matter what, eh, Colette? Don't worry, though. I won't hold it against you if you never want to see me again._

Sensing the onset of despair, Sheena redirected her thoughts. Lloyd was right. Today, she would be happy. She visualized Mithos clearing his ethereal throat to mock her only to be surprised and thwarted by her sudden ebullience.

A knocking on her door ended her early morning ruminations. Seized by self-consciousness, she checked her appearance in the mirror over the dresser. _Hope you like what you see, koibito._ She opened the door to find Lloyd's smiling face.

"Breakfast?" he asked, offering his arm.

She took it. "Love to."

After a quick meal of waffles—thanks for the recipe, Wonder Chef, but why are you disguised as salad tongs?—during which there was a bevy of glances, gazes, and stolen touches exchanged between Lloyd and Sheena (along with the occasional feigned gagging by Genis), the three temporary housemates joined Dirk at the village entrance. Much to Sheena's amazement, Lloyd had neglected to wear his swords. She recalled Dirk's words the night before. "Won't need those blades for a day of hard labor, lad" But she had expected him to bring them along anyway if only to have them nearby just in case. He even wore them to that dinner party so long ago, and the way his hand strayed to his side every so often in search of a sword hilt to rest upon served to high­light the unusualness of their absence.

Seeing him thus unarmed gave her a surreal feeling, perhaps a vision of a future in which she and her koibito would no longer walk the path of the warrior. Would there, could there be such a day? After the Exsphere journey? _I'll work for that day, my love, but I'll stick by you even if it never comes._

■□■□■

Tossing his heavy red shirt to the side, Lloyd wondered why he'd even bothered wearing it. He had known he would discard it by the end of his first hour's work anyway. Timbering and stone-craft, it was said, were bare-chested labors, and, despite the last vestiges of the morning chill, his dad's shirt was nowhere to be seen. Lloyd pulled his suspenders back over his arms and his short-sleeved white shirt. The pits and collar were already stained with sweat, but he decided against going topless. He hadn't the build to do so off the beach. Plus, he didn't want to distract Sheena. Heh.

Damn if he hadn't been hanging around Zelos too much.

Or maybe not enough.

He used the break afforded by removing his shirt to take a look at the woman he loved, remembering the tiff she had with Dirk earlier in the morning when he tried assigning her lighter duties. Her brief flash of anger made Lloyd remember how she'd treated him when she first joined the party. Back then, she'd seen him as a boy trying to live in a man's world. He couldn't fault her for it. Not too long before he met her, he'd still been using wooden swords. Actually, her injunctions of "Be a man!" helped him do just that. At first, he was frightened he had another Kratos on his hands, someone whose only goal in life seemed to be putting him down, whose compliments were back-handed insults. But Sheena's corrections had soon petered out, and Lloyd came to realize it was just her way of feeling out a frightening situation.

"Hey, Dad, tell me again why we're doing this."

Building these fortifications, you mean?"

"Right. The evacuations will be finished tomorrow, meaning we'll be the only ones left in the village."

"Aye."

"We should try and save the village if we can. I understand its symbolic importance, but how can anything we build in under a week stand against an army as big as Meltokio's?"

"Oh, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, lad. You can trust your old dad."

"And I do, really, but—"

"And if our aim were to save the village single-handedly, we'd be fighting a losing cause. No, lad. The only hope for Iselia is your friend Zelos bringing his reinforcements in time. Our real aim is to provide enough of a distraction to keep the king's troops away from the evacuation site."

Lloyd nodded. "And that's another thing."

"Are you going to complain about the evacuation site again?" Genis asked, setting down his pickaxe. He actually shared Lloyd's misgivings, but didn't mind the break an intellectual discussion would justify.

"Keep working, lad," Dirk admonished.

Genis grumbled something off-color and resumed his work.

"The ruins of the human ranch _are_ a bad idea." Lloyd said.

"The fortress is the most secure place in the area—"

"It _was_ the most secure _before_ it began to be dismantled. A process observed by the delegate from Meltokio."

"That's true."

"And has anyone seen him lately? I'd bet my swords," he reached for a missing sword handle, and then dropped his hand awkwardly, "that he's already back there, spilling his guts. The king's forces will know everything about that place. I'll bet he was the one who suggested dismantling it in the first place."

"That's...also true.

"He said it was a symbolic way to show the Desians were no longer in control," Genis added, "that Iselia is its own free town."

"And no one felt it odd that the representative of a repressive monarchy was saying this."

"From what I understand," Dirk said, "they figured he was just speaking diplomat­ically, acknowledging Iselia's freedom officially even if Meltokio didn't support it in principle. A few of the more hopeful civic leaders thought it might represent a new attitude toward freedom for his people as well as theirs."

Sheena smirked. "That's pretty naïve for a village that had been his close to a human ranch."

Lloyd shrugged. "Iselia was used to oppression from half-elves—no offense, Genis. Being oppressed by other humans wasn't a concept they easily grasped."

■□■□■

**Translation Note:** "Koibito" is Japanese for "boyfriend" or "girlfriend." It signifies more than a casual relationship

**Note on chronology: **The chronology of the chapter, in case it isn't clear, is as follows: The entire chapter takes place the day after Lloyd's confession of love. The first scene takes place in early evening (though that isn't apparent from the text), and the second and third scenes take place in the morning, several hours before the first.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	13. Mizuho Mishap Part 2

**Disclaimer:** NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by its author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 13: Mizuho Mishap, Part 2 _**

To the gathered villagers, Chief Igaguri said, "Then it is agreed the challenge will be answered at noon tomorrow on the Isle of Decision. Lloyd, as the challenged party, will choose the observer." To Lloyd, he said, "Please make your decision by mid-morning." To Sheena, he said, "Come, Granddaughter, we must talk."

Sheena jerked her arm free from Orochi's grasp and shot the ninja a dirty look, noting with a mixture of puzzlement and satisfaction that he seemed genuinely hurt. Unbidden, a Mizuhoan word came to mind, a word she had no right to know. Damn him! The intimacy its knowledge implied she didn't want from Orochi. That he had forced it on her—he had actually pulled her hands away from her ears when she had attempted to cover them—galled her. She needed to talk to Lloyd if only to be reminded of the true intimacy she shared with him. But when she started his way—

"Granddaughter, if you please."

Lloyd smiled confidently, as if to assure her everything would be all right. She dearly wished she could believe him. She tried to return his smile, but failed. Nodding obediently, she assented to her grandfather's, _her chief's_, demand.

When Sheena was out of sight, Lloyd turned toward Orochi, determined to...well, not to fight him. He'd take care of that tomorrow, but his blood was boiling due to the ninja's rough treatment of Sheena, and there was no rule against cursing an opponent before a challenge. Was there? All he really knew about the challenge he had picked up while serving as Sheena's observer in her duel with Kuchinawa. No matter, someone else was already laying into Orochi.

"Cover your face," Tiga demanded, "You shame yourself."

"I apologize, Vice-chief, but what I told the Next Chief could not be said while masked." The smug grin he directed Lloyd's way disappeared a moment later beneath his expressionless blue mask.

"You didn't." Tiga said.

"I regard _all_ Mizuho's traditions as law, even those that have fallen out of general favor."

"The people," Tiga said, "will not stand for this."

"The people love me."

"But she is our Next Chief."

"And what a Next Chief she is, always absent, gallivanting around the world while our crops fail, while our agents die, while she is most needed," Orochi said. "How much longer will Chief Igaguri live? Sheena should be here, learning to lead. Our people need a real leader, someone who is with them, someone who has faced their hardships, someone—"

"Like you?" Tiga asked.

"Or you, Vice-chief, but you already have a wife. I do not. If I marry the Next Chief, I will be in a position to help our people."

Tiga exhaled, "So that's why you told her."

"Yes. You have long known the love I have for our people. I would do anything for them, and they know it."

"And Sheena would not do the same?"

"Of course she would," Orochi said sternly, "unless Lloyd asked her not to. He is her top priority. Can you disagree? The villagers can sense this too and have lost confi­dence in her. Many have long believed she, being an outsider, would eventually abandon us and, now that she has been dishonored by Lloyd, this belief is stronger than ever."

"And you're _so_ _honorable_, Orochi," Lloyd interjected, seething. "It takes a real man to do what you did, manhandle a woman and then badmouth her when she's not here to defend herself. Well, I'm here."

Tiga grasped Lloyd's shoulder. "My friend, now is not the time."

Lloyd unfastened his sword belts and dropped them to the ground, letting the ninjas know he wouldn't employ the blades in his anger. He spoke tersely and quietly, so that they had to strain to hear.

"You're talking about Sheena as if she did something wrong, as if loving me has defiled her. I don't care who you are," he pointed to Tiga, "or who you think you are," he pointed to Orochi, "I won't stand for it. What we have or haven't done is between us. If Sheena wants to tell you, she can. But none of it has defiled her, dishonored her, or soiled her. She is the strongest, most honorable, purest person I have ever known, and if you can't see that, you don't know what honor is."

Orochi closed his eyes, and, when he opened them again, his look of fierce, almost demented fanaticism was gone, replaced by a more subtle determination, akin to the look of the man Lloyd had once called friend. He said, "I would have been proud to stand by you both on your wedding day, but that cannot be. You love her; that is plain to see. But there are bigger concerns in this world than love."

"Are you trying to confuse me?" Lloyd said. "Pretending to be my friend won't work."

The ninja shook his head. "No. Sheena is one of us. Unlike my brother, I never considered her an outsider. She is my friend."

"Nice try, but I heard you call her an outsider a few moments ago."

"I am my people's mouthpiece, an instrument of their will. A good leader does not dictate what his people should believe but guides them, and, if he is overruled, he must bend himself to their will."

"That's foolish!" Lloyd said, "You have to fight for what you believe in, even if you fight alone!"

Orochi shook his head. "If you truly believe this, you will never understand leadership. Mizuho needs stability, Lloyd, and it is up to our next leader to see they get it. Sheena must put aside her own happiness if her people's welfare demands it. That is the burden of leadership."

"Sheena will be the best chief you've ever had," Lloyd insisted.

"And just where will you be?"

"By her side."

"You're not going back to Iselia, then?" Orochi said.

"Of course we are," Lloyd said, perplexed. "We have to. Our friends are counting on us."

"So then, you will take our Next Chief to certain death. How does this benefit Mizuho? Suppose you do survive this conflict. What of the ones to follow? To Iselia she is but another soldier; she is far more valuable to us."

"She's the most important person in my life."

"But not the most important thing," Orochi insisted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only this: you are with Sheena as long as being with her does not interfere with your quest. If you had to choose between hunting Exspheres and being with her, you'd choose the Exspheres. I will prove that to her, and she will willingly leave you."

"You're wrong."

"About you or about Sheena? Don't bother answering. We both know what you'd say. Besides, if I cannot break her heart, I'll get her through guilt. I'm sure the chief is attempting to do that as we speak. Or rather, as _they_ speak." Orochi walked away, leaving behind a dumbstruck Lloyd. Before he disappeared into the night, he turned and said,

"Rest well, for tomorrow we fight. And I will not hold back."

■□■□■

**Earlier that day**

"Freedom or fealty," Lloyd said echoing Genis's words from the council, "one will eventually win out. I wonder if freedom has ever won that battle."

"It has, Lloyd," Sheena said. "We beat Mithos, right? We won freedom for our land."

"Yeah, and the king is nothing compared to Mithos," Genis said

_...You can say that, again..._

_Not now, blondie,_ Sheena thought.

"I suppose you're right," Lloyd said, forcing himself to grin. "It wouldn't be very heroic to win a war then die in a skirmish."

"That's the spirit," Sheena said, squeezing his hand.

As his cheeks reddened, his cares were forgotten.

"They've been doing this _all__morning_," Genis whined.

Dirk wiped a tear from his eye, or was it a speck of sawdust? "My little boy is growing up."

"Dad!"

Sheena joined in her friends' attempts to get Lloyd out of his doldrums by lightening the atmosphere (and got back at Genis in the process). "Hey, Genis," she said, "since Presea's here, you could be doing the same."

His head shot up. "Presea! Where? Here in Iselia! Why didn't anybody tell me? How's my hair? Are these clothes too sweaty?..I mean, that was simply a childish crush. I'm far more mature now." _That's it, Sage, play it cool. She might be watching._

Lloyd burst into peals of uproarious laughter, which prompted a bevy of disapproving rebukes from Genis. Lloyd tried but failed at mumbling a "sorry, sorry" between his guffaws. When his need for breath brought his laughing fit to an end, he apologized. "Things have been so tense lately," he explained, "I guess I just needed that." His sides ached a good ache from their workout.

"I forgive you, Lloyd," Genis said, "but seriously, Presea didn't see my outburst, did she?"

Lloyd experienced a brief aftershock of his laughing fit, and then was about to answer when another voice interposed.

"No, Genis, she didn't," Raine said, coming from the direction of Colette's house. "She isn't here anymore. And neither is Colette." She held up a note. "Colette's run away." She held up another note. "And Presea's followed her."

"We have to go after them. They could be in trouble!" Genis shouted.

Lloyd nodded. "Right. If they took Presea's rheiard they could be anywhere by now. We should split up—"

"Not so fast, Bud," another voice interrupted. "You have a bigger problem." Zelos jogged top speed through the village gates, followed by a haggard-looking Frank Brunel. Lloyd looked away, unable to meet the gaze of Colette's father.

"Or to be more precise," Zelos continued, "Sheena has a problem. She's needed in Mizuho, and I'm sure you'll be tagging along."

Lloyd shook his head. "Whatever the problem is, it'll have to wait. Colette and Presea—"

Sheena interrupted. "What's happened?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news twice in so few days, but a friend of yours has been killed."

"Who?"

"Suzumebachi Hidagawa."

"Suzu!"

Zelos nodded grimly. "Sorry. On the bright side, if there is one, he managed to send an important piece of intel to the village before he died. And trust me, it's big. The chief wants to see you right away."

"Thank you, Zelos," Sheena said. "Lloyd, we have to go now."

He shook his head, "But Colette—"

"Lloyd, I don't have time to argue. Either come with me, or don't." When he didn't move for several seconds, she stalked out of the village, rummaging in her bag for the wing pack.

"Don't look at me like that, Zelos," Lloyd growled. "The last time I left Colette in a dangerous situation she was shot with a magic arrow and went into a coma for a week." Then he shook his head. "What am I saying? It's a simple search mission. You guys can handle it, right?" He ran out of the village, smacking himself on the head, mumbling, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Hey, Sheena, wait up."

By the time he found her, she was already in the air. She forgave him easily enough, but refused to land, forcing him to fly using his wings for the duration of the trip. Long before they reached the village hours later, he was exhausted. It depleted a great deal of his mana reserve, but he wasn't concerned. He was headed for an intelligence briefing, after all, not a fight to the death.

■□■□■

"Go back to the village, Presea. I don't need you here."

Presea gave one last tug to free her axe from the tangle of intestines and fur that had been a wolf. She sprinkled sand on the heavy blade to remove the blood, bile, and bone fragments that remained attached. "Incorrect, Colette," she said. "You were nearly killed."

Colette watched Presea's cleaning ritual curiously. Once the liquids of the wolf's body fluids had absorbed enough of the sand, they congealed into patches of mud, which Presea calmly scrubbed off with a hard-bristled brush. Some of the more persistently ground-in bits of gore received the mud treatment two or three times. Sand, mud, scrub. Sand, mud, scrub. The sight and smell made Colette a touch queasy, and she was standing upwind yards away. Yet, Presea managed to complete her cleaning without the slightest wrinkle of her nose. Sadly, Colette noted, this was quite in character for the girl who once lived several days in a cottage with the moldering corpse of her father.

"How long have you been following me?" Colette asked.

"Since you left the village," Presea said. After a pause, she added, "Long enough to see you shouldn't be out here on your own."

"I have to do this alone."

"Then we have a problem, because I have to follow you."

"Why?"

"To discover whether friendship is worth anything."

"Fine," she groaned. She didn't really understand what Presea meant, but something about the way the girl phrased it touched her. "But only as far as the House of Salvation. That's my first stop. Afterwards, you're heading back to the village."

Hesitantly, Presea nodded. "That is acceptable. May I ask why you are going?"

She exhaled. "I...want to speak with Martel."

Presea nodded. "Will you seek her blessing for the battle?"

"No, it has nothing to do with the battle."

"What could be important enough for you to abandon your friends?"

_Abandon? Am I abandoning them?_

_**So he's abandoned me for her. **_

Unsolicited, the memories came rushing in.

**_He's just worried. I'm sure he'd do the same for you._ **

_Liar._

_**I won't let anything happen to you, Colette. You're my friend. I'll protect you.**_

_Liar. You're the one who hurt me! _

_Abandon them? Why not? They've already abandoned me._

"Do you want to come with me or not?" Colette snapped.

Presea said nothing, just packed her cleaning supplies and followed her retreating friend.

■□■□■

**Omake**

"Hey, Sheena?"

"Yeah, Genis?"

"You've got Mithos's voice inside your head, right?"

"Sure do."

"I was wondering...has he ever said anything about me?"

"He has, but...I can't repeat it to you."

"Why not?"

"You're not old enough."

"Aww, come on. I'm mature for my age. What's he say?"

"Hmm...well, okay. Have you ever heard of the term 'yaoi?'"

"Yaoi...yowie...is that anything like 'owie?'"

"Well, it _would _probablyhurt."

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	14. Mizuho Mishap Part 3

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 14: Mizuho Mishap, Part 3**_

Deep within Gaoracchia Forest, at the border of Mizuho, Lloyd touched down and waited for Sheena to do the same. Putting his wings away reintegrated the mana they used into his body's overall mana reserve, and gave him a brief feeling of euphoria. It ended when the physical exertion of flying caught up with him. He hunched over, panting, while Sheena called her rheiard back into the wing pack.

"I don't have a lot of experience in this sort of relationship," he said, "so I'm not sure how many other ways I can apologize."

Sheena frowned. "I'm not mad at you, Lloyd. It's just that Suzumebachi was my friend. I recommended him for this mission, and now he's dead."

Lloyd wanted to hug her, but they were near enough to Mizuho, where "even love must be conducted in secret," that he kept a discreet distance. "It's not your fault," he said. "Suzumebachi knew what he was getting into."

"Did he?"

Lloyd nodded. "Yes. But that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

Sheena bit her lip and shook her head slowly. "Mizuho is both a family and an army. I'm supposed to mourn for family, but, if I get this broken up over one death, how can I lead an army?"

Lloyd moved as close to her as he dared, close enough to take her by the hand. "Do you remember what you told me after you powered the mana cannon, how your village sent you to Meltokio as a peace offering? It sounded like slavery to me. Still does. But you said you were happy to go because it meant you were being useful to your people."

She nodded.

"Would Suzumebachi have felt any differently?" Lloyd said. "You accepted your mission willingly. So did he, and, if he's anything like you, he died with a smile on his face, knowing he'd served the village well." He paused before adding, "Your grandfather is a good leader. The villagers follow him because they know he loves them. When they hurt, he hurts. He takes no death lightly but manages to go on living because they're depending on him."

"You've never really talked with Grandpa," Sheena said. "How do you know so much about him?"

Lloyd shrugged. "A guess. He'd have to be pretty great to raise a wonderful person like you."

Sheena smiled. Lloyd hadn't seen one of those in hours.

She said, "Here's a relationship lesson, koibito: If I had been angry with you, a remark like that would've pacified me completely."

"What does it get me when you're not angry?"

Sheena giggled, closing the distance between them and threading an arm around his waist. "Why don't I show you?"

When their lips parted moments later, Lloyd said, "You are going to be a great leader _because_ you care for your people, not in spite of it."

She gazed into his eyes. "And you'll be by my side, won't you?"

"You don't need my help to be a great leader, Sheena." At her look of dismay, Lloyd added, "But I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. "Thank you, koibito."

He squeezed her hand. "Let's go inside."

"All right." She turned, intent on keeping her hand linked with his until the last practical moment, and saw—

"Orochi?"

The ninja stood, regarding the pair pensively. Just how much he had seen or heard they could not know. He bowed stiffly to each. "Next Chief, and her ever-present escort, Lloyd Irving, it is a solemn day. Come, the chief wishes to see you."

Sheena nodded and released Lloyd's hand. Saying no more, she followed Orochi into the village.

Lloyd trailed behind, uneasy at the cold look he was sure he'd spotted in the ninja's eyes.

■□■□■

Presea crept as quietly through the underbrush as a young girl dragging a fifty-pound axe could creep. Thanks to the raucous carryings-on of the soldiers she was trying to slip past, it was quiet enough. Ahead, Colette motioned frantically for her to hurry. Presea flashed a hand signal telling her to stop. The last thing they needed was for a soldier to notice Colette's frenzied waving.

Most of the morning had been spent in a silent march steadily southward, interrupted only occasionally by attacking monsters, typically, hares, night raids, and killer bees. Colette's temper seemed to get shorter each time Presea stopped to perform her cleaning ritual. At last, Presea had settled for quick wipe downs with a gore-encrusted cloth. A few days' treatment like this would ruin the axe, but she supposed her friend was more important than her weapon. She'd buy a new one whenever they reached a town. It was well past time for an upgrade anyway, but she'd always liked this axe, her Gaia Clever. She'd carried it into the final battle against Mithos Yggdrasill that had ended the world regeneration journey.

Her attempts to stimulate conversation failed miserably, so she'd secretly been relieved when Colette hushed her suddenly at the edge of a large thicket. The relief soon evaporated when she found out why. Through the break in the thicket Colette indi­cated, Presea saw six soldiers. Advanced scouts for the king's army, no doubt, and they were way too close too Iselia. What bothered her more, though, was their unusual number. Her knowledge of Meltokio's military told her scouting squads usually consisted of four men. This was a squad plus two, meaning two more soldiers could be nearby. She and Colette needed to get away and get away fast.

Too late.

"Well, what have we here? You're a pretty little thing." A large man held Colette sus­pended in the air by the front of her blouse. In his other hand he held a menacing-looking knife. Its blade, black-lacquered and jagged with embellished serration designed as much to frighten as to rend flesh from bone, was wet with blood from a fresh kill. He said, "You wouldn't happen to be Sylvarant's Chosen, would you?"

"N-no," Colette said, "you're mistaken."

He shook his head. "You're a horrible liar, cutie pie. We've been briefed. We know exactly who you are. Where's your protector with the two swords? I want a crack at him."

Fear fled from Colette's eyes, and she gripped the man's wrist. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized the sound of snapping bone, but externally, she paid it no heed. "I have no protector," she said. "I'm alone."

No longer concerned with secrecy, Presea hefted her axe to her shoulder. Her plan—take down the one holding Colette, and then escape on the rheiard. The smart choice would be to usher Colette onto the rheiard while she stayed behind to fight in case the scouts had archers or long range magicians, but she knew the girl too well to believe she would, even in her current funk, accept the sacrifice.

As soon as her axe touched her shoulder, she was pushed forward, and the axe ripped violently from her grasp. She stumbled and fell face first into the dirt. Ignoring the pain from abrasions on her face and hands, she wheeled around, intent on fighting her attacker, barehanded if necessary. Instead, she lunged desperately to the side as her own axe struck the ground where she had stood, tossing up stone and chunks of earth.

Her attacker was a soldier, the eighth man (as Colette's attacker was the seventh) she'd been hoping to avoid. He raised the axe above his head and brought it down executioner-style again and again, just missing her each time. He had strapped at his side an axe as big as Presea's, suggesting he was no novice with the weapon. But the way he swung _her_ axe suggested his weapon of choice had once been the sword. He'd soon tire himself out if he couldn't appreciate the difference between swordsmanship and axe-play. Then again, perhaps not. She dodged another swipe. Sufficient endurance, particularly if it were Exsphere-enhanced, could compensate for bad tech­nique.

The soldier tangling with Colette cried out. He could no longer control the fingers below his broken wrist, but Colette held him in a tight grip. He swung his arm, frantically whipping the girl to and fro, but could not dislodge her. "Let go," he begged. In a moment, he came to his senses, reared back his knife, and thrust it forward. Colette gave his hand one last vicious twist before letting go and pushing away, barely avoiding the stab. She cried out as she bruised her rear on the ground. Her blouse was ripped open in the front and the pieces draped over her arms so that it impeded her movement. Without hesitation, she ripped it off, revealing the black t-shirt beneath she'd taken to wearing for warmth.

The soldier cradled his broken arm, and bellowed for his companions to help.

Through the thicket burst the other six. They surrounded the fighters, closing in on Colette, but providing a wide perimeter for Presea and the wild axeman who still showed no signs of slowing down.

From the corner of her eye, Presea noticed a soldier drawing two swords. No shield. His defense would be lower. Positioning herself directly in front of him and waiting just a moment longer than usual to dodge the axeman, she rolled under his legs. The faux-Lloyd tried to catch the ill-placed swing with both swords, but the momentum was so great it sent the swords crashing to the ground and left him with a fatal gash in his chest. He spent his last moments cursing and gurgling blood. And, as Presea hoped, his swords were left unattended on the ground. When the axeman turned to resume his fight, she whipped past, snatched up one of the swords, and sliced into his knee. After training with a heavy axe, she found a sword almost too easy to swing. She kept at her cat-and-mouse game with the axeman. As her sword's former owner had demonstrably proven, blocking wouldn't work. After a particularly forceful swing left the axe embedded in the ground, Presea dashed behind the axeman. Once there, she sliced the tendon that connected his foot and calf, laming him. For good measure, she did the same to his other foot. He fell to the ground, never to walk again.

Out of eight, three down. No, four. Colette's chakram dripped with blood. Four down. Four to go. How many more could they kill before the crew wised up and stopped fighting one-on-one?

She surveyed the remaining soldiers, and noticed something. Two magicians. And one mumbling a—she recognized that spell. She threw the sword, impaling the magician's forehead and preventing him from raising his dead allies. She picked up the faux-Lloyd's second sword and prepared to charge the other magician, but the chain of fireballs he sent her way left her staggering in pain.

Healer. Kendama-wielding magician. Axeman. Knife-wielder. Double swordsman. Man with greaves (on arms and legs). Did one of them..? Yes, one of Colette's chakrams split as it connected with an enemy's chakram. And—no, that was impossible. Other than Kuchinawa, no Mizuhoan had ever worked for the village's enemies, at least as far as Sheena had been able to recall. Would Kuchinawa teach the village's secret card arts to an outsider? No, his twisted code of honor wouldn't allow him. But here was a card fighter; nowhere near Sheena's level of power, but still brutal. The rapid-fire cyclone seals sending Colette into an unplanned retreat proved as much.

These eight were a cruel mockery of the Chosen's group.

Three dead. Two incapacitated. Three to go.

Regaining her bearings, Presea charged the Genis-wannabe. He rushed the comple­tion of his current spell, and all but one of the ice spikes it created missed her. The one that connected, however, pierced her leg, and sent her face first into the dirt. She tasted blood.

He swung his kendama, and the ball on a string slammed into her skull. Presea groaned. As she'd so often done with the real Genis, she underestimated this man. He moved toward her, tucked the kendama into his belt, and drew a sword.

She raised her own to mount a defense. He slashed at it, purposefully connecting with the blade, causing it to vibrate and loosen her grasp. Damn it! She wasn't used to one-handed weapons! A final slash sent the sword flying. The condition of her leg meant she couldn't run. Probability of escape—three percent. Trying would be pointless. The soldier raised his sword. Instinctively she closed her eyes but a moment later opened them. If death came, she would meet it eyes open, unafraid.

■□■□■

Chief Igaguri bowed to Lloyd, his aging posture deepening the degree and duration of the honorific. "Your presence honors us, Lloyd Irving," he said.

Lloyd returned the bow, and repeated the formal greeting Sheena had taught him. "I am honored to be in your presence, Chief Igaguri."

Once the customaries were out of the way, the war briefing began in earnest. It was far more formal an affair than Zelos's council two days prior, and far more informative. Whereas Zelos had approached the group with suppositions and half-formed theories, Mizuho's spy network had solid proof of the king's schemes in the form of a dispatch from the late Suzumebachi Hidagawa—God grant his soul rest—but, unfortunately, no definite plan of action. Upon learning the truth, Lloyd almost wished he could forget it.

"Og...do...ad?" Lloyd sounded out the word.

"Yes," the chief said, "Ogdoad. The term pre-dates Mithos by perhaps thousands of years."

Lloyd scratched his head. "That far back, huh? I thought everything from that time was long forgotten, except for maybe by Dad or Yuan. Would Yuan know anything about it? He wasn't there, but maybe he's heard of the story."

"We will dispatch an agent to seek his counsel immediately," the chief said. He snapped his fingers and pointed at a ninja in black standing near the back. The ninja bowed low and exited.

"Everything from that period _is_ long-forgotten, Lloyd," Tiga said. "Indeed, Mizuho's memory stretches back to before the worlds were separated, and the name was a mystery to us."

"Then, how do you know where it comes from?" Lloyd said.

"Suzumebachi's letter," said Tiga, "came with several leafs from a translation of an ancient text. The text wasn't in his handwriting. We assume that, instead of copying the leafs down as he should have, he stole them, was caught, exposed, and—"

"That's why he died." Sheena concluded.

"Yes," Tiga said. "The leafs tell of an ancient religion whose followers held that the world was created by four pairs of deities representing the concepts of water, air, dark­ness, and eternity."

"Us," Sheena said, "That is, the Chosen's group." At Lloyd's quizzical look, she explained. "We're the group of eight that _remade_ this world. That's where the reference comes in, right Grandpa?"

"Yes, Granddaughter, we believe so."

Sheena continued. "Raine and Genis are eternity because half-elves live a long time. Lloyd and I have dark pasts. Zelos and Colette received the gift of flight as Chosens. That's air. But how do Regal and Presea represent water?"

The chief smiled. "Maybe you're overanalyzing the reference."

"Perhaps," Sheena acknowledged with a blush.

"So let me get this straight," Lloyd said. "The pope and the king have teamed up. To regain the pope's love, his daughter Kate has outfitted a group of eight with powers and weapons similar to our friends, essentially creating a—what did you call it?"

"A Dark Ogdoad," Tiga answered.

"A Dark Ogdoad."

"That is what Suzumebachi's letter indicates, yes."

Lloyd groaned. "We gotta work on that name."

"Are they Desians?" Sheena asked.

Tiga shook his head. "The pope's seething hatred of half-elves makes this unlikely."

Sheena acknowledged the point and added, "I bet even using Kate is galling him."

"Kate." Lloyd frowned. "Why would she agree to help her father after all he did to her?"

"He's the only family she has, Lloyd," Sheena said. After a quick survey of those gathered in the hut, she continued. "I wouldn't trade my time in Mizuho for anything, but I'd give an awful lot to know my real family."

There it was again, Lloyd's desire to comfort her. And in the one place on the reunited world he couldn't. _Is she doing this on purpose?_ One look in her eyes told him she wasn't. One look into Igaguri's eyes told him it was time to continue the briefing. "Anything else we should know about them?" he asked the chief. "They don't have any angels, right?"

"No, assuredly not," the chief said.

"Or summoners," Lloyd laughed. Sheena was the first known summoner since the Kharlan War four thousand years ago. "Why aren't you guys laughing? Tell me they don't have a summoner."

Beside Tiga sat a female ninja, whose hair was weaved into a complicated bun. At that moment, the bun came undone, and the pin that held it up fell to the straw mat floor; everyone in the room heard it drop.

■□■□■

With all his strength, Dirk pulled at the rope. He'd started off with gentle tugs, and worked his way gradually to his current any-harder-and-I'll-throw-my-back-out yanks. Satisfied the binding would hold he descended from his perch atop one of the two newly-erected wooden towers, and once on solid ground, stood back to admire his work.

A tremendous log hung suspended from ropes between four towers—the two new and the two old that had served the village as lookout towers. When the back ropes were cut, the log would swing forward, slamming into whoever stood in the village gate­way. Since no fortifications capable of withstanding an army could be built in so few days, he'd dedicated a substantial portion of his build time to constructing and strategi­cally placing traps to keep the invaders busy once they breached the gates. The one he'd just finished, though lacking in style, would pack a wallop if deployed at the right time.

"It's incredible, Dirk!"

"Oh, I don't know, Genis. I suppose it'll do the job, but it's a bit crude for my taste."

"Crude? Are you kidding? You constructed the towers at precisely the right distance for the ram to strike here—" Genis stood in the center of the gates "—and thus deliver the maximum force possible. And you calculated the angle without using advanced instruments. Incredible!"

After Raine, Zelos, and an insistent Frank Brunel had left in search of the runaway girls, Genis had been depressed. Finding out about Presea's unique age problem had done little to dissuade the thirteen-year-old half-elf from still regarding himself on some level as her knight. He'd wanted to help search for her, but one look from his sister shot down any hopes he had of displaying his gallantry to his crush that day. Sitting here, unable to do anything, stifled the sparks of his emerging manhood. So Dirk had done what he could to focus the boy's thoughts elsewhere, involving him in putting the finishing touches on the few remaining uncompleted traps. He puffed up his chest. All those years raising Lloyd had made him an expert in child-rearing if ever there was one.

Once Genis had calmed himself somewhat, Dirk said, "You seem to be inheriting your sister's bent for excitement. We'll call it "Scientific Mania." What do you think?"

Genis's face went as ashen as his hair. "Dirk, I'm begging you, do not repeat that to anyone. Raine would never let me live it down."

He laughed. "All right, lad. My lips are sealed." He settled on the ground near one of the towers, and stretched out with his head resting in his hands. Soon, Genis joined him.

"Can I ask you something," he said, "about Lloyd?"

"All right."

"Remember at the council how Lloyd was so adamant about defending Iselia? And today, he suggested we should abandon it," Genis said. "Is that just Lloyd losing interest like always, or is there a deeper meaning?"

Dirk considered the question carefully before answering. "I think it signals a shift in his priorities."

"That's what I was afraid of," Genis groaned. "Now that he has Sheena, losing the village won't be such a blow."

"No, I dinnae think that's it, lad. Lloyd cares deeply for the people of this village. He'd risk his life for any of them." Dirk paused. "But there was a time when his love for people was exceeded by another emotion—his hatred for the Desians. Before the regeneration journey, he would have fought tooth and nail to defend an empty village just to keep them from having it. He's growing up, putting personal grudges behind him. I couldn't be more proud. He's been changing for a long time, and I think receiving Sheena's love made that change permanent."

Genis rolled over, placing his back to the old dwarf.

Dirk said, "Does it bother you that Lloyd is with Sheena now?"

"Lloyd was my best friend," Genis said. "He isn't anymore. We're all different people since the journey ended. I've got my studies and my political activism. But when I'm not keeping busy, I start thinking, and I realize everyone is leaving me behind. It scares me.

Dirk placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're the youngest member of your group, lad," he said. "Many of your friends are adults already, while others, Lloyd, Sheena, and Colette, are becoming adults. They're striking out on their own, leaving behind the lives people have constructed _for_ them, and creating lives of their own. It's a difficult transition. If you were their age, you'd be going through the same thing."

"But I'm not their age. I'm a part of the lives that others constructed for them."

"They don't mean to hurt you, lad, and this doesn't mean you're not still their friend," Dirk said.

"But they will hurt me," Genis concluded.

"Ah, lad."

"No, it's okay, Dirk," Genis said. "I'll just make sure to enjoy the time we have left."

Before Dirk could reply further, Genis changed the subject. "Do you intend to stay for the fight, Dirk? You're not really a fighter, and you've done more than enough to help."

Dirk reflected grimly that he'd just borne witness to the truth of one of the primary vows: Pride precedes a fall. _Great parenting skills, indeed. What a fall!_

"I'm not sure, lad," he said. "Yesterday, I would have stayed for sure, but since I woke up this morning, and especially since Lloyd left, the desire to get to the mountains and underground is stirring up in me. It's taking all the willpower I have to not go running off right now. But I can wait until Lloyd returns."

"Any mountains in particular?" Genis said.

"Aye." He pulled a crinkled map out of his back pocket, unfolded it, and smoothed it out on the ground. It was a rough outline of how the reunited world might appear, having been made by superimposing maps of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla on top of one another. It was wrong in a few of the particulars. He knew this from the brief glance he'd taken at Lloyd's map some nights before. But the region wherein his interest lay was represented perfectly. "There," he said, pointing to a spot in the map's center.

"That's near Mizuho," Genis observed. "You know, if you wanted, when the search group returns, one of us could take you on a rheiard. You could stop by Mizuho and say goodbye to Lloyd while you're at it. You could even meet Altessa. He's a dwarf too, and he helped us out a lot on the journey."

"You don't know how tempting that is, lad," Dirk said, "but...no. I can't really explain why, but this is a journey I feel I have to make on foot."

"Okay." Genis shrugged, "But that offer is open-ended, right up until we see the king's troops poking their pitiful heads over the horizon."

"You've got a way with words, lad."

"Heh, I got straight A's in Creative Writing."

They passed the time after that boast in relative silence. Occasionally, Genis would ask about one of the theories underlying a trap, but Dirk had little aptitude for technical explanation, preferring instead to show how a device worked. And since springing a trap for a demonstration was out of the question, Genis soon stopped asking.

After twenty minutes of silence Dirk had slipped into a light doze, leaving Genis to ponder his place in his friend's new lives. _I'm happy for Lloyd,_ he decided, _but I don't want to lose his friendship. Maybe it's time for me to make a life for myself. I could sign up for a semester at Sybak or Palmacosta_ _Academies._

"Hey, Short Stuff, stop daydreaming!"

Genis shot straight up. "Zelos, did you find the girls? Where are they?"

Zelos ushered his search party into the village. When they had entered, he tossed a bundle in front of the half-elf, and slammed shut the newly constructed gates.

"That won't stop them," Raine said.

Genis unwrapped the bundle, and dropped it in horror. Inside were pieces of a broken axe—he'd recognize Presea's Gaia Clever anywhere—and a broken chakram. The wrapping itself was Colette's blouse, her blood-soaked blouse. Genis charged the gate, but Zelos pulled him back.

"They're not dead. Tell me they're not dead!" he screamed.

"Genis, there's no time—" Raine said.

Zelos grasped his shoulder. "We found clothing and broken weapons, but no bodies. Do you hear me, Genis? No bodies."

"Then they're still alive! Why aren't you out there looking for them?"

Zelos pointed to the sky. "That's why," he said.

Genis gulped. In the skies above Iselia flew a veritable army. Some were mounted on dragons or similar monsters. Some were monsters, horrid winged creatures, the likes of which had given the Chosen's group no end of trouble on their journey. And some—No!

"How did they get rheiards?"

"No time for questions, lad." By this time Dirk had awakened. He grasped the boy by his shoulders. "Lloyd's swords. He left them in your house this morning. Find them. The material blades cannot fall into enemy hands."

"What about you?"

Dirk lifted his heavy sledge hammed onto his shoulder. "Same as the others. I'm going to fight."

■□■□■

Sheena burst out of the door, cursing herself for her tears as she ran. Her behavior was that of a child, not the future chief of Mizuho. Despite this realization, she did not stop running until she reached the crops at the edge of the village. It was bad enough the opposing side had a summoner. She'd half-expected that. The king had access to records from her time at the Elemental Research Lab. Hell, the Lab had taught her to summon. Being the best candidate for summoning did not mean she was the only can­didate. But to learn they had someone who could perform card arts, Mizuho's _secret _card arts—_Oh God. Tell me they didn't find my diary. Please don't let this be my fault._

"Next Chief."

"Orochi! You startled me."

The ninja emerged from the early evening shadows that concealed him. "What troubles you, Next Chief? We have long been friends, have we not? Please confide in me so that I might help."

"Thank you, Orochi, but—"

He moved closer. "But I am not Lloyd. Is that what you intended to say?"

She shook her head. "No, my friend, no."

It is unhealthy for you to confide everything in an outsider."

"Outsider?"

"Please, Next Chief. I mean no disrespect, yet my words are true. It is obvious from the way you fled at the mention of card users among the king's troops that your troubles are related to Mizuho. Lloyd understands little of our ways. Perhaps if he were to marry one of the young girls he would—"

"Marry? What did you say?"

The ninja shook his head. "Did I misspeak? I was not _suggesting_ he marry. I was only making an observation that, were he to do so, he would become aware enough of our ways to offer you comfort." Orochi moved closer.

Sheena stepped back. "Orochi..."

"Perhaps I am making a suggestion." He nodded, a quick up-and-down motion. "Permit me to make a list of all the girls who are of age. He may choose from them. I will act as his daihyo if he so wishes."

"Lloyd is spoken for."

"The Chosen?" he asked. "Yes, that is appropriate, don't you think?"

"No."

"Then his teacher. Or the young one, perhaps. Both options are available to him."

"No, Orochi."

"Ah, then it is someone I do not know." He stepped closer.

"N-no, it..."

He was face-to-face with her, close enough that she could see the impressions of his nose and mouth through his facial covering. "Who then? It cannot be you. Your respon­sibilities as chief would make that impossible."

"Why would you say that?" _And why am I so afraid of you right now?_

"Once you are chief, you will need to remain in Mizuho. And he would not be content to stay here with you. Yet there is someone who would."

"Orochi, no..."

She tried to run away, but he seized her arm. He peeled the layers of fine blue silk from his face and head, revealing to her the true form of his face for the first time. "Does my face please you, Sheena? Am I not handsome? No woman had seen my face since my mother died. She told me I was handsome, but I want another opinion. I want yours."

"Please, Orochi, don't—what are you doing?"

He kneaded the flesh of her arm, and put an arm around her waist drawing her to him. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers, exerting only the barest hint of pressure.

_Oh God!_ Where was her voice? Why couldn't she scream! _Lloyd! Lloyd, my true and only love, please help me!_

Orochi pulled back and slid his mouth along her face toward her ear.

"O...ro...chi," she wheezed

"No," he whispered. "Taisuke."

"What?"

"Call me Taisuke. It is my true name. Come, love, tell me yours."

"No...no..." _Lloyd, where are you?_

"Orochi, get your damn hands off her!"

Out of the darkness of evening he emerged like a gallant knight, the one man on whom she could always depend. He was here, and everything would be all right.

_...So naïve..._ Mithos observed from his perch within her mind. _...You should know better than anyone what comes next..._

_Oh, God, please no._

_...Yes, my child?..._

_You're not God, Mithos._

_...I'm the closest thing to a god you'll ever see, mortal..._

"I invoke the ch—"

"Orochi, no!" At last she regained her voice.

"Quiet, woman!" he snapped.

"I am not speaking as a _woman_. I am speaking as your _Next Chief_!"

"As such..." came a voice from behind Lloyd.

_Grandpa! When did he get here?_

_...Terribly sorry. I guess I distracted you. If you'd like to withdraw from reality and rest for a while, I'll gladly take over. And I'll return control to you as soon as you ask. I swear..._

_No! Can you even still do that?_

_...You know, I'm not really sure. Let's find out..._

_Go to hell._

_...I'm much too comfortable here..._

"...you should know better than anyone not to interfere in the issuance of a chal­lenge." Her grandfather looked at her disapprovingly. Why? Couldn't he see what this man had done to her? She sighed. She could already tell this night wasn't going to end well.

■□■□■

Presea stared unafraid into the eyes of the sword-wielding magician. She'd beaten men and monsters far more powerful than this peon. She'd faced Mithos Yggdrasill in combat and lived to tell the tale. If this man killed her, it would negate none of those accomplishments. _If you're mean to kill me, come on! I will not cower in fear! I will not close my eyes!_ She realized she was having an emotional response. Pride she felt, and defiance. And self-confidence on a level she had never experienced. If death came for her now, it would find her in top form.

But death did not come. It was prevented by a chakram crushing the magician's throat.

Presea wasted only a moment watching him breathe his last. Then she turned to face her savior. Colette, dressed all in black, her blonde hair streaked with someone else's blood, strode forward, with a confident swagger to her hips, her chest swollen either with pride, or, more likely, labored breathing brought on by the ferocity of battle. Zelos had a word for that sort of look. What was it? Ah, yes. Bad-ass.

In Colette's eyes, though, was no confidence, just exhaustion and hollowness. She knelt by Presea, and without a word, set about healing her injuries.

In a moment, the pink-haired girl was as good as new. She bent her leg a few times to work out the kinks, and surveyed the battlefield. Not a soldier was left standing. Out of the eight, only two were even left alive—their initial combatants, the knife-wielder with the broken arm and the crippled axeman.

Colette retrieved the black knife and pressed it against its owner's throat. He tried batting it away, but, as the blood pooling at his side and staining his shirt attested, he was in no condition to resist her.

"Wait!" Presea called. "We need to interrogate them."

Colette acquiesced, but kept the knife in place.

Presea approached and asked, "Who are you?"

He spat at the ground, showering Presea's shoes with blood.

Colette twisted the knife, and he groaned. "My friend," she said, "asked you a question."

"We...we're your worst nightmare, little girl. We're you, or at least the king's answer to you. We're the Ogdoad. Unbeatable..."

"We beat you," Colette insisted.

"Unstoppable..."

"We stopped you!"

"We're going to kill the Chosen's group..."

"You failed—"

"He's not listening, Colette," Presea said, "He's not even aware of our presence." The look in his eyes told her, through shock and blood loss, he'd already checked out. Lucidity had abandoned him. He'd die in madness.

"The king's Ogdoad is pretty pathetic if it was beaten by two little girls," Colette said, before she slid the knife across his throat. At Presea's look of horror, she shrugged and mumbled, "Mercy killing."

"Colette..."

Laughter drew their attention back to the axeman.

"Pathetic?" he said. "Maybe we are, but we're not the king's Ogdoad. They're the best of the best. Compared to them, we're worthless." He pointed toward the knife-wielder's corpse. "He knew that too, though his pride wouldn't let him admit it."

Presea made a face. The axeman hadn't been nearly as talkative during the fight. Now that she thought about it, he hadn't uttered a single word.

"We're rejects," he continued, "failed experiments. The king's Ogdoad is on a _real_ special mission right now. But there's whole battalions of us rejects itching for a fight. You, with the super hearing, can you hear that buzzing? They're coming, and they'll reduce your village to rubble. As for you, you'll be dead long before they get here."

He unfastened the gauntlet covering his left hand and forearm and held up his Exsphere, his crestless Exsphere. He ripped it from his hand and threw it to the ground.

Before their eyes, his form changed. Already tall, he grew taller. The hue of his skin darkened; his eyes receded, and his nose caved into his skull, leaving a blood red orb as his only prominent facial feature. Bones cracked and splintered, spilling their marrow inside his body and out through tears in his skin. The same bones made new connec­tions, fusing themselves back together.

He'd been told to expect the pain, and the rage with its accompanying loss of mental sharpness and reversion to basic instincts. But he had also expected to be able to walk again. His transformation was complete, but his tendons had not been reformed. When he shook his leg, his foot flopped like a dying fish.

"Why?" he bellowed.

It was the last thing he bellowed before he felt a jagged blade pierce his throat. Then he felt no more.

"Presea, we have to go," Colette said, withdrawing the blade and sheathing it at her side. She seemed panicked.

"What is it?"

"I hear something. Rheiards. Dozens, maybe. He was right. A large force is moving this way."

"Back to Iselia, then?"

"No. We can't help them."

"Our friends are there. Lloyd is there."

"He doesn't need my help." Colette stamped her foot. "He has Sheena. Come on, they'll be here soon."

Presea exhaled and nodded. "All right, I'm coming. Just let me get my weapon." But her weapon was shattered; pieces of the blade lay scattered upon the ground. She cast dust upon them, one last cleaning ritual as symbolic thanks for all its service to her.

She thought perhaps she would take one of the swords she'd used earlier as a surro­gate weapon. Instead, she found a greater prize. There was still an axe strapped at the axeman's side. Her earlier evaluation of its worth had been wrong. The axe wasn't as good as hers. It was better. She read the name emblazoned on its handle: Kauket Clever. Interesting.

"Hurry!"

"Coming, Colette."

■□■□■

Lloyd moved his left arm in slow deliberate circles, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady. Now was not a good time for the old injury to flare up.

**Derris-Kharlan**

**One year ago**

**The final battle with Mithos Yggdrasill**

"There's still time, Mithos. Help us restore the world!"

"You understand nothing, Lloyd! You're pathetic!"

Lloyd growled in frustration. Mithos was being as dense as the armored-plating on his magitech behemoth. Why couldn't he see—? No time for brooding in battle. Mithos was charging Colette, who, in the midst of casting an angelic spell, lay defenseless at his mercy. And Lloyd knew he wouldn't show any.

"Colette, look out!"

Lloyd sent twin shockwaves of energy hurtling at Mithos, hoping to delay the leader of Cruxis long enough to reach Colette. Not pausing to see whether the double demon fang had been effective—As Kratos told him, the fool follows his attack with his eyes; the wise follows it with his feet. Translation: Don't wait to see if your attack has been effective. Instead, keep attacking—he rose through the air, feeling as if he had wings, and dove for his friend's position. But instead of attacking at the end of his rising falcon, he used the momentum to push Colette out of the way. He heard her land with a surprised grunt several yards away. He flashed her a smile, and then felt a searing pain in his left shoulder.

**After the Battle**

The gel Sheena had sent his way suppressed the pain, but the physical stress of finishing the battle had undone the effects of its healing. He'd been a little annoyed with her then, helping him when she should have been summoning. But then, he would have done the same had she been the one hurt. And after the battle, in all the excitement of becoming an angel himself and awakening the Great Seed as an anchoring point for the reunited world, he'd forgotten about the injury.

He'd assumed it had simply healed itself in the same way that all the other minor cuts and bruises had disappeared with the emergence of his great blue wings. Not until a few weeks later when his arm began to tingle and on occasion stiffen did he think much about it. By then, it was too late to heal with magic or medicine. He'd just have to bear it. He didn't mind. It was a small price to pay for the regeneration of the world. Besides, it only seemed to hurt when he used his angelic powers.

**Present**

He withdrew one of his blades, and inspected it in the firelight. Shiden blades. Of Mizuho make, they were good swords, sturdy, strong, and well-balanced. He'd used a pair briefly on the world regeneration journey. But they weren't nearly as powerful as the material blades he'd, like an idiot, left behind in Iselia. He took a few practice swings, reacquainting himself with their strengths and weaknesses.

Having the Next Chief of the village as your girlfriend, despite its catching you up in duels to the death, did have a few perks. With only a little cajoling, it had gotten the shop owner to open up for business just long enough for him to purchase the swords and a few gels right before the council had started. He couldn't use the gels during the fight, of course, but he'd probably need them afterward.

A knock on the door brought him out of his reflective state. He once again mentally thanked Tiga for securing these quarters for him. With at least thirty percent of Mizuho's adult population off on a mission at any given time, there had been no scarcity of avail­able housing, but still he appreciated the effort. "Come in," Lloyd said.

Sheena stood in the doorway, her gaze full of uncertainty. She whispered his name and, a moment later, flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest to hide her tears. After a time neither of them could measure, she kissed him, first tentatively, and then fiercely. At last pulling back, she said, "Thank you. I needed that."

When he had caught his breath, he told her, "You're the most important thing in my life. You know that, don't you?"

"It feels good to hear you say it."

"I would never leave you, not for any reason. If you asked me to give up hunting Exspheres today, I'd do it. It'd be hard, but I'd do it."

"Thank you for saying so, but I would never ask that of you. I couldn't. We both promised to finish this journey. Remember the lying penalty? That's on both our heads."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you."

They talked for a while after that about nothing of substance, preferring to leave the questions of summoners and the leak of card fighting secrets for another day and just enjoy one another's company. There was no daihyo yet. There didn't need to be until there were formal declarations. And at present, there were only Orochi's accusations. Lloyd did ask once about the conversation she'd had with her grandfather, but, when she'd told him she preferred not to talk about it just yet, he didn't press the issue. Another time, he tried consulting her about whom he should choose as daihyo.

"Oh no, mister," she laughed. "Whom a man selects as his daihyo is one of the factors the woman considers when deciding if he's worthy. You're not getting any help from me."

"Haven't you already decided that I'm worthy?" he teased back.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you can relax. I'm expecting some serious romancing from my man."

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me."

"Yep."

"But I guess you're worth it."

"You guess?" She feigned anger.

"Nah. I know."

She kissed him again, and, on a whim, kissed the tip of his nose. "I'd best be going," she said, "if I'm to be back with your observer on time."

She stood and walked to the door.

"Hey Sheena," he called, "You think Regal's a good choice for my observer, right?"

"Sure," she nodded. "He's fair, level-headed, and won't be prejudiced by your friendship."

"Would he also be a good daihyo?" He grinned.

"You dork! I told you—"

"How about Zelos?"

"Zelos!" she growled. "Stop trying to involve me—ha ha ha."

"Genis? Or Dad? We can get Origin to bring him back from Derris-Kharlan."

"Lloyd!" She was laughing uncontrollably now.

"I wonder if Yuan's busy."

"Yuan? Lloyd, I'm leaving now, and I don't want to be laughing like an idiot in front of my people."

He placed both hands over his mouth, silently promising not to say another word.

But she didn't see him, was purposefully avoiding looking at him. If he were trying not to make her laugh, whatever he did to avoid it would have the opposite effect. She took slow, deep breaths and opened the door. She made it to her fifth step before bursting into a fit of giggles.

■□■□■

On a field south of Iselia, two young girls continued their pilgrimage toward the House of Salvation. One felt acute guilt for having abandoned her friends and appre­hension at not knowing if they were all right. The other wondered why she was not feeling the same.

■□■□■

In the village of Iselia two warriors, a gentle healer, and a dwarven smith prepared for the fight of their lives, while another warrior stuck to the shadows, weaving from house to house, desperate to reach his home and the prize therein without attracting attention.

■□■□■

In a borrowed house in Mizuho, a lone swordsman, already missing his departed love, massaged a sore shoulder, before settling into a restless sleep.

■□■□■

A few houses over Taisuke, known to most as Orochi, sat cross-legged on his tatami floor mat inhaling the fumes of a bitter incense. When the door opened, and another man entered, Taisuke did not look up, simply said, "Hello, brother. It has been a while."

"Indeed, it has," came the reply, "Is all going according to plan?"

■□■□■

**Self- Promotion:**

Sheena's Diary, as referenced in this chapter refers to another story I'm working on: _Dear Diary, Love Sheena_. It's an introspective look at Sheena's life five years before the game in the form of short diary entries. It will be updated infrequently at best.

I've posted a few original fics, samples actually, on fictionpress dot com. My pen name there is "koinekid" the same as my pen name here. Check them out if you get the chance.

**Note: **"Sorry this chapter was so short," he said sarcastically.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	15. Mizuho Mishap Part 4

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 15: Mizuho Mishap, Part 4**_

Lloyd gripped his Shiden blades. _Arrgh! I can barely move my left arm!_

Sheena withdrew twin spell cards from her gi. _I don't have time for this!_

Orochi held his kunai in front of his face. _Am I doing the right thing?_

Regal tightened the straps on his greaves. _Never thought I'd be fighting her._

Dirk raised his hammer. _Be safe, my son, if I don't see you again._

Genis whipped out his kendama and fired off a spell. _I can't let them get Lloyd's swords!_

Zelos readied his sword. _At least I'll leave a pretty corpse!_

Raine brought her staff to bear. _Wish I could've gotten to know you better, Mother._

■□■□■

_Well, it all comes down to this!_

■□■□■

"Keep that up you'll tire yourself out."

Orochi walked the Isle of Decision battlefield, getting used to the feel of the soil on his thin-soled boots and testing for trouble spots. He leapt into the air, landed, and smoothly transitioned into a roundhouse kick, following up with a flurry of strikes to the pressure points of an imagined opponent. He frowned. "Little brother, did you notice anything about the soil when you fought here?"

"At last, he speaks!" Kuchinawa hopped from his perch atop a tree limb and bowed low in mock approbation. From that angle, the black costume he wore in place of his usual red one gave the impression that he was one of the king's foppish courtiers. "Not really. It sticks to your boots a little, but that's the river water seeping into the soil. It's no real problem."

"It could slow me down."

"By half a step at most, and Lloyd will share the same handicap. Just stay in the air as much as possible."

"If he uses his wings, he'll be in the air too."

"So? If he's in the air, use the ground to your advantage. If he's on the ground, use the air to your advantage." Kuchinawa shook his head. "You always did overanalyze everything. Besides, you're faster than Lloyd. If you both end up on the ground, half a step won't make a difference."

"Are you admitting I can defeat him?"

"There's always a chance. Sheena beat me, so we know superior talent doesn't guar­antee victory. Give Lloyd a good fight. The master doesn't need you to win, just to be a distraction."

Orochi launched himself at his brother, pinning him against a tree. "I've told you, I'm not doing this for your master."

"Are you challenging me as well? Patience, Brother. Survive your lunchtime chal­lenge before you schedule one for supper."

"Quoting Dad to soothe my anger, eh, Kuchinawa? You always were sneaky."

"As a snake," he said.

Orochi shoved him hard against the tree, then walked away to resume his battle prep.

"Why _are_ you doing this, then? Or do I not want to know the answer?"

"To bring Sheena back. Our people need their leader."

"The politics are just an excuse, and you know it. You actually care for her, don't you? She killed our parents, and you are in love with her."

"I'm ignoring you," Orochi said.

"No, you're not."

"She did not kill anyone. For God's sake, Kuchinawa, she was nine! The village forced its hopes and dreams onto a lonely little girl. We killed her childhood that day and caused those other deaths too. We're the murderers. You want to blame someone? Blame the entire village!"

Kuchinawa shrugged. "I can't kill the entire village."

"And you _won't _kill her."

"Beneath his mask, Kuchinawa smiled. "I can't very well kill her if she becomes my sister-in-law, can I? Tell you what, Brother, here's a little incentive. If you manage to win, I will forever abandon my feud with her, and return to this village as your right hand man."

"What will your master say?"

"Leave him to me. Do we have a deal? Will you fight for the life of the woman you love?"

"Gladly."

Kuchinawa laughed. "Aren't we quite the pair? You want to marry the woman I want to kill. I wonder what Dad would think."

Orochi sighed heavily, nudging a stone away from the battlefield with his foot. "It's nearly midday. What's keeping them?"

"Do you like this color on me?"

Orochi narrowed his eyes. That question came out of nowhere. "I suppose. Why the change?"

"It's only temporary. I can't have Lloyd knowing who I really am if I want him to accept me as observer."

"I challenged Lloyd," Orochi said, "The choice of observer is his, or have you been away long enough to forget our traditions?"

"If his observer does not arrive in time, the choice will fall to you."

"Sheena went to retrieve him. She will not fail."

"Such faith." Kuchinawa shook his head. "She will fail this time."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me." Before Orochi could respond, Kuchinawa continued, "Now, let me tell you how you're going to win this."

■□■□■

"Why is it," Sheena groaned, "that I forget my diving equipment every time I come to Altamira?"

Finding Regal should have been much easier and far less time-consuming than it was shaping up to be. And it would have been, had not the peninsula paradise wherein he lived been crawling with royal soldiers. It could be worse. None of them fit the mental image she had of ogdoad troops.

Of civilians, the beach was deserted, the vendors' market was deserted—hell, the city was deserted; its inhabitants either fled or holed up in the hotel. The rich who fre­quented this paradise were by and large Tethe'allans used to the presence of the king's soldiers, but this time even they sensed something amiss. And, unfortunately for her, this lack of civilians up and about severely inhibited her freedom of movement.

Since she couldn't make it to the tram without being spotted, Sheena found herself with the unenviable task of swimming the half-mile from the beach to Lezareno head­quarters. At least she had remembered to bring her bathing suit, and her bag was theo­retically waterproofed. It should keep everything safe.

_Time to test that theory! _

_Brr!_ The absence of a clearly visible sun had left the water chilly, and the chill nearly took her breath away. _No matter. Keep going. For Lloyd._ So she swam, her joints stiff­ening and her extremities numbing with each smooth stroke, resting only occasionally on chanced-upon wedges of land barely big enough to stand upon jutting out from the coastline.

Emerging from the surf with a shiver, she peeled off her skin-tight bathing suit, and put on her Successor garb, both for its warmth and because it would soak up any excess water. Wasting no more time, she tramped toward the massive office building, and puzzled over how to get inside. She could toss a grappling hook onto the tramway tracks that fed into the building. Assuming no one used the tram before she could get up there and the tracks weren't electrified, that could work. But there was no way to be sure, so remembrances of charred corpses in the Temple of Lightning quickly derailed that plan. Surely, the tramway wasn't the only entrance. There had to be another, didn't there? A service entrance, at least?

Or maybe an exit. They didn't transport their trash out via the tram. If she could find the garbage chute, and follow it up...

So quickly it seemed like divine intervention, a black plastic missile fired out of a chute in the side of the building and into a bin that had been out of her eyesight.

_Good._ She made her way to the side of the bin, and sniffed. _Not so good._ She gritted her teeth. _For Lloyd._ She scrambled onto the bin, pried the chute open, and was promptly hit in the face with another bag of garbage. In the back of her mind she heard Mithos laugh.

Taking a deep breath she immediately regretted, she set about prying open the chute again. She entered, and, twenty exhausting minutes of shimmying later, emerged into Lezareno's record room a floor below the President's Office. She wasted no time con­sidering the ethical ramifications of keeping the garbage chute in the record room, im­mediately changing into her normal clothes to rid herself of the garbage odor.

Not until she began adjusting her undershirt against her cleavage did she realize she hadn't been alone when she changed. Her face became flushed. "Regal?"

He placed a finger over his lips. "Shh. They're coming."

■□■□■

Over Iselia's gates the invaders poured, their rheiards buzzing the tops of houses and zipping past the new wooden towers. The four defenders scattered as the invaders cut the ropes securing the giant log suspended overhead and sent it crashing to the ground. So much for Dirk's best trap.

"Stick together!" Zelos shouted. "Raine, you and I concentrate on bringing them down. Dirk, once they're down, pound them into the dust. Frank, stay back and heal, heal, heal!"

"Zelos, I'm a healer!" Raine protested.

"We've got a healer," he indicated Frank, "and I need offensive help. If it doesn't work, we'll change tactics." _Damn it, Dirk. You shouldn't have sent Genis off. We need a strong offensive mage! I'm good. He's better._

Raine scowled, but began casting Ray. Her only multi-target offensive spell, it was powerful, but took far too long to cast. And there were no frontline physical fighters to cover her while spell-casting left her defenseless. An arrow whizzed past her head, impaling itself with a twang in the doorjamb of a house behind her. Too close. As she spoke the last words of her incantation, a glowing orb appeared in the sky. Spears of light energy burst from it, and pierced the bodies of several nearby invaders. A smile curled Raine's lip. She could say this about offensive magic: it was more fun.

At Zelos's command, a sharp crack of lightning shot from the heavens and slammed into the ground. Its energy intersected with the earth's like a great sword, a blade of thunder, before erupting upward, unseating several invaders, sending their rheiards spinning out of control and crashing into the ground or houses. Those that survived the fall were unceremoniously sent to their graves by blows from Dirk's hammer. A minute into the battle and the hammer was already slick with blood. _I wonder if he's ever killed before,_ Zelos thought.

Moving to a different area, he tried the attack again. When arrows pierced his gut and arm, he didn't stop his chanting, only grunted and spoke louder.

Raine paused in the middle of casting a photon, but Zelos shook his head. With a worried look, she resumed her offensive.

In a moment, Frank was by his side. His touch brought instant comfort, enabling Zelos to endure the pain long enough to finish his spell. He heard Frank grunt with the effort. Just how far did his capacity for healing extend? It couldn't be limitless. Zelos bit his lip. Maybe Raine _should_ be focused on defense.

"Ah!"

"Frank, help Raine!" Zelos shouted.

"I'll heal myself," Raine called.

"No, Raine. Keep up the offense. Frank, go!"

The blonde man nodded and rushed to obey but tripped, his momentum sending him hurtling to the ground. In a moment an invader was over him, sword raised to deliver a killing blow.

_No!_ "Victory Li—" Zelos called out, knowing his attack wouldn't make it in time.

Panic and pleading filled Frank's eyes. "Colette," he whispered.

Zelos shook his head. _I'm sorry._

The sword descended, and with a sickening crunch—

—the invader fell into a heap on the ground, his skull crushed, the latest victim of Dirk the dwarf's mighty hammer.

With one hand, Dirk hauled the healer to his feet, patted him on the back, and said, "Go!" To Zelos he said, "Lad, let me lead a few of them away."

"No, we stay together!"

"This is suicide!" Dirk growled. "There's too many. We've got to spread out."

Before Zelos could retort, a gray-skinned gargoyle swooped low, latched onto the dwarf's shoulders with its powerful talons and lifted him high into the air. Dirk slammed his hammer into the beast's knee, breaking both the knee and the beast's hold. The gargoyle went into a tailspin, and Dirk plummeted to the ground. Dirk had no Exsphere; the fall could be fatal.

Zelos could do nothing, but scream, "Frank, Raine!" They couldn't stop the fall, but once Dirk hit the ground they could heal him. "Raine, forget offense! Heal Dirk!" But Raine was already down, unconscious or dead, with her staff far out of reach. And Frank sat, hands hugging knees tightly, surrounded by dismounted invaders.

_I'm not a general. I can't—I can't do this._ _I can't._

Zelos sank to his knees as another arrow pierced his side.

■□■□■

"Shh," Regal said. "They're coming."

"The soldiers?" Sheena asked.

He nodded.

Sheena drew cards from her gi and edged closer to the door. But Regal seized her from behind, clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, and dragged her behind a file cabinet. She could feel her own chest heaving with the shock of it all, but Regal's, pressed against her back, moved barely at all. He remained calm, while she freaked out. She blushed at the closeness of the touch so intimate she hadn't even shared it with Lloyd until a few days ago.

She could hear voices in the hall steadily approaching. Laughs were exchanged when one of them told a joke about a girl from Nantucket (must be a small village—she'd never heard of it), whose...something was big as a bucket. She didn't catch that part.

One of the speakers poked his head into the room. At her present vantage point, she could barely see him. When he stepped into her line of sight, Sheena became irrational with anger and struggled against Regal's hold. Just above the speaker's hand, a card twirled in mid-air. It was an Asura! The same card she'd gotten for beating Kuchinawa! Was that bastard responsible for leaking the village secrets?

_...I thought you'd forgiven him..._

"Yo, Bryant, you in there?" Getting no response, the card user said, "Guess he's still in his office."

When they had passed by, and Sheena had calmed down, Regal released her.

She massaged her neck, and glared at him. She could appreciate stealth, but a simple tap on the shoulder and a mouthed "Let's hide" would have sufficed. Up until she saw the card user, anyway.

"I apologize," he said. "But I couldn't let them see you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You have to go now."

"But I can't. Lloyd sent me. He needs you."

"Sheena, I have gone to great lengths to assure the king of my loyalty. I cannot risk that."

"This has nothing to do with the king!"

"Keep your voice down."

"Lloyd is going to duel Oro—a ninja in my village," she said. "He needs an observer."

"I see," he said, massaging his chin. "That is quite an honor. So, he does still trust me. But why was the honor not given to you?"

"I'm...not qualified."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm sort of the unofficial prize." She sighed and launched into an explanation. "Lloyd and I are...together now. But we haven't followed all the Mizuhoan traditions. At least not exactly. Not yet. And one of the villagers resents me for it." She left out the part about that villager being in love with her as well. "And Lloyd is defending my honor."

"Love is worth fighting for. I would relish the opportunity to help Lloyd this way—"

"Then you'll come!" She smiled.

"But this could not have happened at a worse time. Those soldiers we narrowly missed were guarding a royal envoy sent to meet me here and begin a thorough exami­nation of company records. I have to think of the cities that depend on Lezareno. I cannot put them at risk, not even for Lloyd."

"Ah, Mr. Bryant. These ruffians seemed to think you weren't in here." Regal's vice president entered with the cadre of soldiers who'd been looking for him.

"George," Regal said in shock. He tried to stand in front of Sheena, but it was no use.

The card user shouted excitedly. "That's her! That's the card user from Mizuho! We heard she might be coming this way! I knew you couldn't be trusted, Bryant!"

George clapped his hands. "Oh, good work, Mr. Bryant. You've captured her!"

"Huh?" said the card user.

"Huh?" squeaked Sheena.

"Mr. Bryant will now demonstrate his loyalty to the king by subduing the Mizuho girl. Isn't that right, Mr. Bryant?"

Sheena shot a panicked look into Regal's eyes, but they were closed in weariness and sorrow.

He said, "Yes, George, that is right."

"Regal, no."

"Didn't Llo—didn't that traitor tell you that as long as I'm President of Lezareno I cannot defy the king."

■□■□■

"Will you be my big brother, Lloyd? I lost mine."

Lloyd paced back and forth in his borrowed house, applying to his shoulder a foul-smelling ointment the vice-chief had given him, and mulling over a little girl's words. Hikari's words. Hikari Hidagawa. Suzumebachi's sister. Last night after Sheena left, the little gossipmonger entered. "I won't tell anyone what you and the Next Chief were doing. I promise. Can we talk?"

He'd wanted to usher her out. "Sorry, Hikari. I'm tired. Can it wait until tomorrow?" But he'd seen the look on her face, the lack of her usual cheerfulness, and decided he didn't need her implied threat of "I won't tell anyone what you two were doing _if_ we can talk" to convince him. The threat helped, though.

So he'd stayed awake long into the night talking with her, letting her cry and laugh and remember, and sharing his first (highly informal) tea ceremony. At last her aunt came looking for her, and allowed Lloyd to slip into a fitful six hours' sleep. Before Hikari left, she hugged him and promised she'd see him off in the morning.

As he scooped the last of the ointment from the jar, there was a knock at the door.

"It is time," the vice chief called. "Midday. Your challenger waits."

Lloyd answered the door, and the vice-chief staggered back.

"What's that smell?"

"The ointment," Lloyd said.

The vice chief wrinkled his nose. "You didn't have to use it all at once."

■□■□■

"Stand back," Regal said, halting the over-eager card user. "I will handle this." To Sheena, he whispered, "Forgive me."

She shook her head. "Not likely."

He attacked, slamming a foot into her gut. It took her by surprise as he knew it would. Until the last moment, she would hold out hope that he was pulling a ruse, that he planned to turn around and fight the king's troops alongside her, like the old days. But things weren't that simple anymore.

The attack would have left a normal person panting for air, but Sheena kept herself in peak physical condition. So he followed his kick with another, catching her in the forehead. Every kick was like a knife to his own heart.

"Please give up, make this easy on yourself."

"That's my line." She snapped a finger and a bright light flashed from the card she held, blinding Regal and everyone else in the room. Well, not everyone...

She had time to shout in triumph, "Flash cards. You like them?" before the Ogdoad card user tackled her. If he could anticipate flash cards, a fairly recent innovation, and cover his eyes, he was well informed indeed.

He affixed a card to her forehead. "Sure, babe, love 'em. You like these?" He shouted, "Flare!" and a fireball exploded from the card, burning her flesh and scorching her hair. She screamed, clawing at the card, but it was stuck, melted into her flesh. Water cards brought no relief, nor did gels, and the fire continued to burn.

"Sheena," Regal cried. He too clawed at the card, but could barely see her through half-blinded eyes. And what he saw did not look good.

"You _are_ a traitor!" the card user said, advancing on the President of Lezareno.

Regal could see again. Dark blobs mostly, against a field of light. "George, hit the ground!" he commanded. No sense letting the old man get hit in the crossfire. He launched himself at the nearest blob, his kick connecting with deadly force with what he thought to be its head. The unmistakable sound of whiplash-induced neck-snapping confirmed it.

There were more soldiers, and, if they, like Regal, were regaining their sight, he had to kill them fast. But first, he sent a healing spell Sheena's way. He didn't pause to check whether it had worked.

It hadn't.

■□■□■

Iron mesh net in the vineyard?

Genis ran through the list of Dirk's traps, trying to remember which ones he had set off. Iron mesh net? Check. The rheiard rider who followed him into the tunnel of grape vines hadn't followed him out. Exploding flower pots in front of Colette's house? Check. They'd taken out two more. Spikes behind the schoolhouse? Check. The four he'd managed to trick into dismounting and following him had died messily there. Which meant...what, one trap left? Two? At least one.

After dispatching the four behind the schoolhouse, he'd climbed through an open window and fallen into a heap on the classroom floor, gasping for breath and cursing his pitifully low endurance. He'd give himself another half-minute; then he'd make a mad dash to lead his pursuers into the final trap, which he'd just remembered was a water cannon in the pond near his house.

"I think he's inside."

_They've found me! Damn!_

When the invader ran into the classroom swinging an axe, Genis's first instinct had been to flee back through the window. But the axe reminded him of Presea, and anger surged through him. He should be out there looking for her, and this bastard was pre­venting him from doing that. He'd pay. Genis actually grinned when three others burst in. Fire raged in his veins, and a door began opening in his mind. Behind it was a new spell. The invaders were across the room, separated from him by rows of desks. By his calculations, he had just enough time and just enough magic power to cast the spell.

As Genis chanted, a seal of blue and brown formed beneath him. He barely took notice. The seal might be blue, but he was seeing red: a bloodied blouse and broken bits of a Gaia Clever. His friend and a girl he liked were injured, dying maybe. Were these men personally responsible? Probably not, but he wanted to blame them. His instincts told him that to blame them would fuel his power. His instincts and a tiny voice in the back of his mind.

_...You lost them, Genis, like you lost me..._

_Mithos?_

As soon as he finished his chanting, the door opened completely. He now knew the spell's name, as would his opponents before they died.

"Frigid Meteor Storm!" he screamed.

And nothing happened.

The axe-wielder laughed and offered an insult.

Genis, his strength sapped, sank to his knees. Something was very wrong.

_...Patience, my friend..._

The invaders advanced.

Then all hell broke loose.

Moments later, Genis emerged from the wreckage of the newly destroyed school­house. He barely had time to heave up his lunch and struggle to his feet before a new wave of invaders began pursuing him.

■□■□■

Hikari hadn't come to see him off. Sheena and Regal hadn't arrived. The smell of the ointment was getting to him. His left arm and shoulder still hurt. And he was using inferior blades. It was good to know his luck was holding up.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn't about to fight a pointless battle while his hometown faced the threat of annihilation...again. Oh, wait...

"Welcome to the Isle of Destruction—I mean, Decision—Lloyd Irving. Are you ready to begin?" The speaker was a ninja dressed in black, whom Lloyd assumed to be the substitute observer.

Lloyd staggered as the boat grounded itself in the shoal. It was against tradition for anyone other than the two fighters and the observer to be present on the island during the fight. Since Orochi and his observer were already there, Lloyd had been forced to pilot the boat himself. The problem—despite his brief stint as a pirate in the service of the guileful Aifread, Lloyd was no boatman.

"Give me a minute to get my land legs back," Lloyd said. He stepped onto shore, but tripped over the boat's prow and ended up facedown in the sand. "Heh, heh. Oops."

"Take your time," Orochi said.

Lloyd got used to walking on the shore, and took a look at the substitute observer. He didn't recognize the man, but there was something familiar about him. Ah, no matter. All Mizuhoan ninjas could be trusted to take a challenge seriously. He'd be treated fairly, no matter who the observer.

When Lloyd walked forward to study the battlefield proper, the observer snapped, "It isn't permissible to examine the battlefield before the fight."

"Observer," Orochi said, "I do not mind. I too—"

"It's all right, Orochi. I'm ready."

"Then take your positions," the observer said. When they did, he nodded, once to Lloyd, twice to Orochi, and said, "And...fight!"

Orochi wasted no time, hurling a small dagger at Lloyd. The swordsman rolled to the side, barely avoiding the sharp projectile. Were it not for the sun glinting off the blade, he wouldn't even have seen it. When he looked up, the ninja was nowhere in sight.

Behind him. That's where he had to be. Lloyd turned, swinging his sword in a wide arc, imagining he'd open up the ninja's belly with the blade. End it quick.

Orochi wasn't behind him.

"Gahhh!" Lloyd cried out as he felt another dagger enter his shoulder—his left shoulder. Orochi had been above him, and he'd picked his target well.

On the bright side, with the dagger embedded in Lloyd's shoulder, the ninja had one less weapon to attack him with. Lloyd ripped out the dagger and threw it from the battle­field, disqualifying it as a usable weapon.

_Time to get serious about this._ Ground-based attacks would be no good on an oppo­nent with that much airtime. That ruled out anything of the demon fang variety. Rising falcons, too. And any other attack that required a stationary target. Orochi was too damn fast. What options were left? He'd been working on a few flight-based attacks, but wings would eat up his mana. He'd leave them as options of last resort.

Two throwing stars came at him. Lloyd batted them away with a sword. He dashed forward, knowing Orochi would dodge, rolling to the side or leaping. He intended to catch the ninja in mid-leap, and slash at his legs. But Orochi was too fast even for that, and was far out of Lloyd's reach by the time he traversed the battlefield. He whipped around in time to take a throwing star to the chest. Hurt like hell.

_I'm not very good at combining elements with my attacks. I can't use earth-based attacks like Genis's Grave, but wouldn't a ground-level wind attack work just as well? Worth a try._

As soon as Orochi landed, Lloyd sent a hurricane blast, a variation of his only wind-based attack the hurricane thrust, hurtling at the ninja. As predicted, Orochi leapt into the air to avoid it. But Lloyd was ready for him, and sent another hurricane blast to inter­cept him in mid-air. It struck the ninja, and left him gasping on the ground. Lloyd was there to meet him. "Beast Sword Rain!" he shouted, thrusting his sword into the ninja's mostly unprotected flesh eight times quick, before finishing off with a leonine blast of energy.

_That's the key!_ _Control his movements. Force him to fight close-quarters._

His triumph was short-lived, however. Orochi shot up from the ground, slower than before, but quick enough. He slashed at Lloyd with a dagger—bloodied and caked with sand—and shoved his palm against Lloyd's chest. Lloyd had neglected to remove the throwing star, and Orochi's jab pushed it deeper. Lloyd gasped, feeling sand enter the new wound the dagger had opened in his gut and blood flowing out of his chest in torrents. He threw up Guardian as the ninja slashed at him once more.

Lloyd retreated to catch his breath and attempt to pry the star from his chest. No good. It was deep. If Orochi hit it again, the star might puncture his heart. This was bad. Orochi had turned Lloyd's best shot at victory—close-quarters combat—into his best shot at an early grave.

"Come, Swordsman," Orochi said, drawing his sword from the sheath on his back. "I am finished with cheap trickery. We shall fight blade-to-blade as befits men."

Lloyd could only nod, wondering if Orochi's meant this genuinely, or if he were only moving from cheap trickery to the expensive stuff.

It might be time to bring out those flight-based attacks after all.

■□■□■

Zelos sank to his knees as another arrow pierced his side. Dirk was down. Raine was down. Frank was surrounded by invaders. The Chosen considered giving up then, taking the easy way out. Surrendering to the invaders or to death. But, no! Never give up! Never surrender! Where had he heard that before? No matter. Whatever its origin, its message was clear. He was Zelos Wilder, eternal optimist and all around cheerful guy. He had no reason to change now.

He dug into his bag, and pulled out a life bottle. If he could revive Raine, all would not be lost. He rushed forward, spread his wings, and closed half the distance separating them in mere moments. Raine was his objective, but Frank was on the way.

"Air Thrust!" he called out. Performing the technique mid-flight and without warming up depleted half his mana, but it did the trick, driving the invaders into the ground with its powerful air currents and freeing Frank Brunel. "Help Dirk!" he tried to shout as he passed, but it came out as more of a wheeze. Frank, however, got the message, and rushed to the dwarf.

Zelos's wings lost their cohesion almost immediately, petering out and causing him to hit the ground, rolling. He skidded to a stop well short of his mark. He scrambled to his feet and plowed forward, slamming into the torso of a gargoyle that swooped into his way. The beast bashed its trident into the Chosen's face and he momentarily lost his bearings. But the life bottle in his hands reminded him of his goal. He slashed at the gargoyle, more to shoo it away than to wound it, but the beast was persistent. It tried the same move its comrade had with Dirk, but Zelos drove his sword upward into the base of one of the beast's legs. This disrupted its grasp and Zelos tumbled to the ground. His Exsphere prevented him from feeling a thing. He stumble-crawled to Raine, and, cradling her head in his arms, poured the liquid from the life bottle down her throat.

Her cough signaled she was back in the land of the living.

"You had me worried, my alluring academic."

"Zelos," she cried.

He was puzzling over her fearful expression when a whack to the back of his head sent him sprawling. He watched Raine dispatch the soldier that had attacked him, and he smiled. She was really sexy when she fought so ferociously. She had nice legs. Had he ever told her that? Hers was the last image he saw before he succumbed to uncon­sciousness. Not a bad image to fall asleep to, all things considered.

In the distance he thought he heard an explosion. _Izzat you, Genis? Go get 'em, kid._

■□■□■

Sheena fought to retain her consciousness. To pass out meant death. As it stood, not much was keeping her from death. Flare cards! Could her people devise something so deadly, so intentionally cruel? She knew a magically-fueled fire still burned her head. She no longer felt it, though, her nerve connections having been destroyed roughly thirty seconds ago.

There was only one being who could help her, a being she had lost the right to call. But she had to try. Foregoing the usual fanfare of summoning, she cried, "Undine, help me!"

The spirit appeared. "We are no longer bound, Pact-ma—" With a wave of Undine's hand, the fire on Sheena's forehead was gone. "Dear one," she whispered in an unusual display of affection. She sank to her knees and drew the trembling ninja into her arms. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Sheena tried to smile. "Lloyd needed me," she choked out.

"That boy will be the death of you."

"He's worth it."

"I haven't long. Another is seeking my power as we speak. I have this gift alone to give you." She kissed Sheena's forehead, and the blistered, scarring flesh smoothed and regained its pinkish hue. Her brilliant raven-black hair was restored. And all traces of the attack were gone. The card that had caused the misery the summon spirit picked up, and, with a contained blast of water, reduced to a pulpy mess. "Yours?" she asked.

"Not mine. I'll _never_ use anything like that."

The spirit nodded. "Stay safe, dear one."

"Thank you, Undine."

"The call is becoming more insistent," the spirit said, her face showing strain. "I must go. The next time I see you, I hope we will not be enemies."

"Me too." Sheena pushed herself to her feet as the spirit disappeared. She watched as Regal fought valiantly against the soldiers. The compulsion to run away was strong since he might very well resume his attack on her once he'd finished with them. But she couldn't bring herself to abandon him. He might not need her help, but she'd give it no matter the consequences.

"There ain't going to be a next time!"

Sheena felt a sharp crack to the back of her head, and fell into a heap on the floor.

The card user stood over her, holding the remnants of a ceramic vase. "Your friend shouldn't a' wasted her time. I'm just going to do the same thing to ya again." He reached into his pocket to get another card, but came up holding a handful of slimy pulp. "That aquatic bitch wasted all my cards. All right, I'll just do this the old fashioned way."

He dragged Sheena to the picture window at the end of the room, and threw open the curtains. Reaching into her shirt, he found her stash of cards. He flipped through the stack muttering, "Got it, got it, want it, don't want it, ah, that's the one." He tossed a few on the floor, and tucked the rest into his pocket. Setting a bench seat in front of the window, and Sheena on the bench, he stood back, held up one of the pilfered cards, and said in a loud voice, "Cyclone Seal!"

A rush of air shot toward Sheena, just as she began to stir. She screamed as she and the bench were hurled first against, and then through, the window.

"Sheena!" came Regal's animalistic scream. He disentangled himself from the last of his opponents and dashed across the room. He shoved the card user aside and dove through the hole in the wall where the window had been.

Regal made himself as streamlined as possible, increasing the speed of his fall as Sheena's desperate flailing decreased hers. In no time at all, he had reached her and wrapped his arms around her. Terrified, she did the same. He tried to speak, but the wind whipping against his face made it difficult. "Can...summ...Aska?"

All he could make out of her response was "can't" and "weak."

"Hold onto my back," he said. When she didn't comply, he forcibly moved her into that position.

His hands still burned from their contact with the flare card, but that didn't matter. He'd save his friend. He pointed his palms toward the rapidly approaching water, and, with a grunt, let loose a blue-white shockwave of mana. Immediately, their descent slowed. He was soon sweating with the effort, but kept the mana flowing long enough to set them safely in the shallow water near the beach. When he opened his mouth to take a breath, he swallowed water. He blinked, and, when he opened his eyes, he saw _her_ sitting over him, gently massaging his forehead.

"Alicia."

"Hello, Master," she said. She had let her hair down and wore a brilliant white gown. It matched the curtains of the canopy bed they were sharing.

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

She giggled. "Okay, _Regal_."

Oh, her voice was music.

"Is this how you imagined it," she asked, "our wedding night?"

He nodded. "Just like this." Her hand rested on his stomach, and he could feel it. He reached out to caress her face. He could feel her. Oh, he could feel her.

"I wish it could have happened," Alicia said.

"So do I."

"Would you do something for me?"

"Anything, Beloved," Regal said.

"Find love again."

"I cannot."

"Your heart is so big. Don't waste it all on a memory."

"It's not wasting."

"But it is wasting away."

To that, he had no response.

Alicia leaned forward, "Think on my words?" At his nod, she smiled again, whispered, "It's time to wake up, Regal," and kissed him.

"Mmm," he moaned, and felt her lips depart suddenly. When he opened his eyes, he saw an abashed Sheena wide-eyed with a hand over her lips. He wondered why until he started coughing. He rolled over and spewed water from his lungs. _Ah, CPR._ "Thank you for saving my life, Sheena," he said. "I apologize for the...way I regained consciousness."

"It-it's kinda flattering, I guess," she shrugged.

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't you."

"What!" she said, a cross look on her face.

He put up his hands. "No disrespect is intended. You're a very attractive young lady, but my...excitement came from a different source."

"Oh, well, anyway, don't tell Lloyd about it. Wouldn't want him getting jealous."

"Of course." Regal stood, shakily at first. "Shall we be off?"

"You don't have to worry about that anymore," Sheena said glumly. "It's past noon. The fight will be over by the time we get there."

He shrugged. "I'm certain he'll want to be greeted by the woman he's fighting for at the end of battle."

She rose, smiling. "You're right, Regal." She cocked her head to the side. "But you don't have to come. What about your company?"

"Too long have I neglected what really matters." Regal shrugged. "Lezareno can consider this my resignation."

■□■□■

Genis slammed the door shut, ran forward, and then doubled back to lock it. Dirk's water cannon had been more of a distraction than a trap, so he didn't have long. He ran to the curio in the middle of the front room, broke the glass—_Sorry, sis, but you should've given me a key_—and retrieved the miracle gel that lay inside. Downing it on an empty stomach reinvigorated him but made him queasy. No matter.

In the bedroom, Genis found Lloyd's swords stashed under the bed. He shook his head. _The most powerful weapons in the universe and he treats them like an old pair of shoes._ Drawing them out, he strapped them around his waist. In a way it felt sacrilegious, but it would make running with them far easier. Unconsciously, his hands went to the blade hilts. He had always been of too slight a build to use a sword. That might change as he grew. He hoped so. After all, he couldn't be a knight, _her_ knight, without a sword.

He fell to the ground as a blast shook the house. "Come out, little half-elf. We won't bite."

"Ignoramuses," he growled.

_...Inferior beings..._

"Inferior—No!"

_...You know it's true..._

He opened the bedroom door, and fell again as a second blast shook the house. The miracle gel meant he could toss a few spells their way, but it wouldn't be enough.

_...There's always Frigid Meteor Storm..._

"I'm not using that again."

_...Suit yourself. Then how about using the swords?..._

"I can't. They're Lloyd's. He and Sheena have the pact, not me."

_...You're a half-elf and you have my help. There is nothing you can't do..._

"How are you even in my head?"

_...Please, Genis. Such a stupid question is beneath you..._

A scream pierced the night.

"That was Raine!" Genis cried.

_...I amplified your hearing. Help her if you can..._

Genis's decision was made. _For Raine. _He drew the swords and slammed them together. And, miracle of miracles, gone were the material blades. In their place hovered a single sword that shone brightly. But the sword's brilliance was outshone by the magnificent being that answered its call.

The four-armed king of summon spirits Origin looked with gravity on the half elf who bade him appear. "You are not the Pact-maker," he said, "And you are not the Eternal Swordsman. You have dared assume a right that is not yours."

Tears flowed from Genis's eyes. "I...I...I...help, please, help me."

"I recognize you as a friend of the faithful ones, Lloyd and Sheena. Therefore, I will not strike you down, but neither will I help you."

Genis dropped to his knees, more from sheer fright than to offer obeisance. "Please, Origin, my sister is in trouble. She's going to die unless you help her."

"Long ago, the Pact-maker Mithos came to me on behalf of his sister—"

Genis interrupted. "Martel was dead. Raine is alive. You can help her. And it's not just Raine. Lloyd's hometown is being destroyed. And Lloyd's father is out there."

"Kratos Aurion?"

"No, his other father. Please, can't you help me?"

Origin shook his head. "You are not a summoner, half-elf. I cannot directly intervene on your behalf."

"But Lloyd and Sheena would approve. Please, can't you..."

_...He said, _directly _intervene, Genis. Take the hint..._

"...can't you bring back Lloyd's father? You can't directly intervene, but if you brought back Kratos, that would be indirect intervention, right?"

Origin actually smiled. "It would be, but I cannot bring him back against his will."

"Bring him back, and if he wants to leave, let him. And go ask Sheena."

Origin closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, said, "I have communed with the Pact-maker's mind. She would indeed approve of this. All right, half-elf...Genis, it will be as you have asked."

With a flash, Origin disappeared, and in his place stood a man Genis hadn't seen in nearly a year.

"Genis, what?—"

Genis was thrown to the ground as another blast hit the house, shattering windows and showering the floors with glass. He looked up to see Kratos kneeling in front of him, his armored arm stretched out to guard Genis from the flying debris.

Kratos said, "What has happened? Where is my son?"

■□■□■

An hour past noon, Sheena arrived in Mizuho to find the village seemingly deserted save for the usual complement of guards stationed near the gates (hidden so well that only another ninja could see them) and one or two others milling about. Forgetting Regal, she took off toward the river. When a hand shot out to grasp her shoulder, she almost broke it, only managing to stop her chop at the last moment. "Vice-chief," she said, "I have to see Lloyd."

"You must listen to me," he said.

"No time." She shrugged off his grasp and resumed her run to the river.

"Sheena!"

But she was gone.

Regal jogged to the vice-chief's side. "What is it?" he said.

The vice-chief shook his head.

Sheena was about to push her way through the crowd she found at the river's edge, when a little girl pushing her way out bumped into her. She was furiously wiping tears from her eyes and not paying attention to where she was going.

Sheena kneeled down. "Hikari?"

"I'm sorry, Next Chief. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"What is it Hikari? What's your fault?"

"Lloyd, he's..." She choked on another sob and couldn't continue.

"Hikari, what about Lloyd?"

A booming voice answered her. Orochi. "People of Mizuho," he began.

Sheena pushed her way through the crowd. _Oh God, no!_ Over the prow of the docked boat, Orochi tossed a battered and bloodied Lloyd Irving. _That bastard hasn't even healed him yet!_ She rushed forward and took her lover in her arms.

Orochi continued. "I have defeated Lloyd Irving and restored the honor of our Next Chief, Sheena Fujibayashi!"

At this, a cheer went up from some members of the normally stoic crowd.

Noticing Sheena with Lloyd, Orochi ground his teeth, but, at his observer's whispered counsel, he said, "Let us rejoice that our Next Chief is merciful, even to her defeated foes."

Sheena paid him no heed, focusing all her attention on Lloyd.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Shh, love. It'll be all right. I _promise_ you, everything will be all right." _I hope._

"And Lloyd is as much a defeated enemy of hers as mine. For, last night, I revealed to the Next Chief my secret name."

Collectively, the crowd gasped.

"Please, my people, I know what you are thinking," Orochi said. "I cannot do that until she is my wife, but there is a tradition among the greater families dating back many, many years. It holds that when a member of such a family reveals his name to another, he or she must agree to the marriage or be exiled. I know this tradition was abandoned long ago, and rightly so, for it impedes personal freedom..."

_The gall, the unmitigated gall! How dare he! _Sheena shot him her dirtiest look.

"...but in times of crisis," Orochi continued, "Mizuhoans must put aside their own desires and serve the village. And we are, make no mistake, in a time of crisis. Our crops fail. Political unrest threatens the world. We must stand together, or we will fall apart. It is with a heavy heart, then, that I find it necessary to invoke this tradition." He locked eyes with her, glared, as if daring her to refuse him. "Sheena Fujibayashi, I, Orochi Hebi, whose true name you know, _demand_ that you fulfill your responsibilities as Next Chief of Mizuho and become my bride."

Sheena met his gaze. _You think you've won, don't you? This isn't over, my former friend, not by a long shot!_

■□■□■

Somewhere on the plains of Iselia, a blood red orb of an eye opened. Its owner tried to speak, but found he could not. His only thought: _Well, shit!_

■□■□■

**Next:** What happened to Genis in the schoolhouse? Why's Mithos in _his_ head? How could Lloyd possibly lose to Orochi? What does this mean for his and Sheena's relationship? And what's this about Sheena and Undine no longer having a pact? And, at long last: Lloyd's daihyo is revealed...and it's Orochi! Yeah! (waits for applause to die down)

**Orochi:** I never signed up for this!  
**Kuchinawa:** Actually, you did. Remember, you said, "I'll be his daihyo if he wishes."  
**Orochi: **But I said that to impress Sheena. Nothing you say to impress a girl counts!

Whaddaya say we let ol' Orochi off the hook, folks? He'll probably be too busy recovering from the beat down all you Sheloyd lovers give him anyway.

**Orochi:** You're joking, right?

Quiet! You're breaking the fourth wall! Nothing to see here, folks. Heh, heh. Move along. Move along. Zelos, Lloyd! Crowd control!

**Zelos:** Aren't I currently unconscious?  
**Lloyd:** I...can't...feel my legs...

Crybabies! All right, Colette!

**Colette: **(licking her bloody black knife) Gladly.  
**Zelos:** That's hot!

I said crowd control, not dismemberment! Oi, I've created a monster!

**NAMCO lawywer:** (clears throat)

Fine. _NAMCO_ created a monster that I am writing about for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the...

■□■□■

**Bonus: Titles Gained Thus Far**

**Main Cast**

Colette Brunel:

–"Bad Ass" (Ch. 13) – "Black clothing, black weapon, haunted look in her eyes. Will she ever be the same again?"

Regal Bryant:

– "Duke Bryant" (3) – "His noble is title put to good use on the battlefield."

Presea Combatir:

– "Tenchu Axewoman" (3) – "The judgment of heaven flows through her blade."

Sheena Fujibayashi:

–"Next Chief" (7) – "She's not their leader yet, but when she's ready they'll welcome her gladly."

Lloyd Irving:

– "De Facto General" (3) – "He has no official authority, but they trust him with their lives."

– "Brilliant Swordsman" (6) – "He protects those he loves with the strength of his blades."

– "Expert Tactician" (6) – "Though he may not excel in the classroom, he's a genius on the battlefield."

– "Clueless Romantic" (6) – "He does not understand the true meaning behind her shy gaze."

– "Koibito" (12) – "An ancient Mizuhoan word for a committed relationship."

– "Kon'yakusha" (16) – "An ancient Mizuhoan word for 'fiancée.'"

Genis Sage:

– "Play It Cool" (13) – "Love her? Nah, that was a childish crush...'she's still thinks I'm cool, right?'"

– "Scientific Mania" (14) – "He sees the wonders of the technological age in the crudest of inventions."

– "Little Man" (14) – "He's becoming a man, but she'll always view him as 'little brother.'"

Raine Sage:

– "Enair" (8) – "She hides her identity to be near one she loves."

– "Haphazard Housekeeper" (8) – "She's not very good, but she's learning."

– "You Cheated, Dr. Raine!" (11) – "That hat and that whip...she reminds him of someone."

Zelos Wilder:

– "Spiritua Reborn...Again...As a Man" (4) – "A title spoken in fear leads to a great practical joke."

– "Matchmaker" (10) – "He thinks he might love her, but wants her to be happy, so he brings them together.

– "Eternal Optimist" (15) – "No matter how bad things get, he keeps a cheerful disposition."

**Others**

Dirk:

– "Child-rearing Expert" (14) – He knows much about parenting, but is he getting a swelled head?"

Orochi:

– "Attention to Detail" (15) – "He must take everything into account; is he overanalyzing?"

■□■□■

**Bonus: Omake**

_(Z skit taking place while Sheena and Regal travel from Altamira to Iselia)_

**Regal:** Sheena, a word?

**Sheena:** What's on your mind, Regal?

**Regal:** I want you to know that I averted my eyes when you were changing in the record room.

**Sheena:**_(blushing)_ Thanks. I knew I could trust you.

**Regal:**_(rubbing his chin)_ Yes. I barely saw anything.

**Sheena: **Barely?

**Regal:** You're quick. You started changing before I could look away.

**Sheena:**_(panicking)_ How much is barely?

**Regal:** You have a tiny birthmark on your...

**Sheena:** Okay, we can stop talking about this.

**Regal: **Indeed.

■□■□■

**Last Modified: **06 October 2006


	16. Mizuho Mishap Part 5

**Disclaimer:** NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 16: Mizuho Mishap, Part 5**_

The pitching and yawing of the boat as it was borne along by the river current intensified the pain of Lloyd's injuries. Yet it was not _his_ pain that concerned him. "Please, Kari," he said, "don't cry."

"It's my fault, Lloyd. If I hadn't..." A sob made her words unintelligible. "...then you wouldn't have..."

Lloyd stroked the girl's back. "Hey, _hey_, I'm your big brother now, right?" When she nodded, he added, "I can't stay mad at my little sis."

This only made Hikari wail louder. She caught herself as she was about to jump into his arms. She wanted to help him, not hurt him again. A stolen glance told her the observer was wholly occupied with the task of rowing back to the village. Taking advan­tage of his inattention, she reached into Lloyd's bag for a gel. When she popped the cork, however, the observer heard and slapped it from her hand. It flew high into the air and landed with a plunk in the river.

"Please, Mr. Observer," Hikari said, "Big Brother needs help."

"No," he said. "The village must witness the totality of his defeat. Isn't that right, Orochi?"

Orochi said nothing. Just stood tall in the boat, puffing out his chest and trying to look the part of the hero the crowd would be expecting. He didn't feel like a hero.

"Mr. Orochi, please," Hikari begged.

His chest deflated, and he sunk down. "Perhaps another gel wouldn't hurt," he said. The observer, the disguised Kuchinawa, stopped rowing and shot his brother a stern look. Orochi sighed and resumed his stance. _For my people,_ he repeated his mantra. _For my people._

In a low voice, Hikari said, "I-I _will_ tell them what you did."

"You'll do no such thing," Kuchinawa said. "Or we'll exile you for violating the sanctity of the Isle."

"I don't care! Big Brother is stronger than both of you dorks put together. He didn't deserve to lose. He—"

"Kari, stop."

"But, Big Brother—"

"I lost, Kari," Lloyd said, "and it doesn't matter why. I'll face the consequences. I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"But you sacrificed yourself for _me_."

"That's different," Lloyd said.

"How?"

"It just is."

"That's not fair," Hikari whined. "Why are you the only one allowed to sacrifice yourself?"

Through Lloyd's mind flashed a series of memories: Colette admitting she knew the regeneration of the world meant her death, Sheena telling Kuchinawa she'd surrender to him if he let the others escape, Dad dropping his guard at the last instant when they fought at Origin's seal, and Zelos letting the group beat him senseless so he could steal Aionis to forge the pact ring. He didn't even want to begin thinking about the group's sacrificing themselves one by one to get him into the Hall of the Great Seed to rescue Colette.

Yet, hadn't he been willing to sacrifice himself for them on occasions too numerous to count? Yes, he supposed so. But he never thought of it as risking his life. On some level he had believed himself indestructible. Perhaps it was the idealism of youth, his inborn sense of destiny, or the protection of his Exsphere. It did allow him to survive injuries that should have killed him. And in Iselia his only foes had been ornery monsters, pitifully weak compared with those in the rest of the world. Such a poor frame of reference had convinced him, by the time he left the village, that he couldn't lose, no matter who the opponent. Add to that the spirit of protection he'd cultivated for his child­hood friends Genis and Colette; it soon extended to the rest of the group even when it became apparent some of them matched or exceeded him for power. That's why anger, almost irrational, surged through him whenever his friends dared sacrifice themselves. They weren't indestructible. They could die. And he couldn't take that. Pretty stupid, huh?

Another memory—

_**Sheena, you shouldn't have to suffer because of me.**_

_**Lloyd, I meant what I said. I've never regretted sacrificing myself for you. I care about you. I'd die for you.**_

_Don't you dare, Sheena. If you do, I'll never forgive you!_

Yeah, pretty stupid, but he didn't plan on changing.

"Kari," he said, "I'm sorry, but that's just the way I am."

■□■□■

**Fifteen minutes ago**

**Isle of Decision Battlefield**

Rarely a blow struck flesh; more often each swing was blocked or parried and the unmistakable sound of metal-on-metal filled the air. Both fighters were accomplished swordsmen. Lloyd held the advantage in experience and versatility, but his shoulder stung from its dagger wound, and his pain-killing ointment was wearing off. Orochi was faster, but his attacks more basic. Still, he had mastered those basics. The decision to learn only a few moves had, in fact, been a conscious one. The more moves in his catalogue, he reasoned, the more time he wasted selecting one. While his opponent debated whether to use Omega Tempest or Sonic Thrust, Orochi had already chosen his attack and thrust home. Lloyd discerned, however, there were limitations in Orochi's kill 'em fast style and, thus, moves he would not be adept at blocking. All Lloyd had to do was to discover those limitations and exploit them.

Easier said than done.

Barely ten minutes into the sword fight and both of them were banged-up, bruised, and bleeding. Still, Lloyd's superiority with the blade meant he'd evened up the score from the thoroughly humiliating first round. The throwing star embedded in his chest had loosened from his physical exertions but was still too deep to pry out.

Orochi thrust at Lloyd's mid-section. Lloyd side-stepped and struck the blade with his right sword. With his left he slashed at the ninja's unprotected torso. But it was an awkward maneuver that ended with his arms crossed over his heart. The ninja dodged all but the tip of the blade, which sliced open his chest. A flesh wound. Inflicting it was not worth the vulnerable position it left Lloyd in. Fortunately, Orochi's dodge threw off his balance, and he could not take advantage of Lloyd's vulnerability in time.

Orochi followed up with a slash at Lloyd's face. A disfiguring wound had it connected, but Lloyd bent backwards. The blade came so close it passed out of his focus. Recov­ering, he slammed both swords together against Orochi's blade, trapping it in a metal grip. He tore the blade from the ninja's grasp and sent it flying into the air.

Bladeless but not defenseless, Orochi slammed his palm against the throwing star lodged in Lloyd's chest. A metal plate stitched into his glove protected Orochi's palm, but nothing protected Lloyd. The star sank deeper than before but did not puncture his heart. It had worked its way out too far for that.

Lloyd ignored the pain. Orochi was making a beeline for his sword. Now was his chance. For the first time since the fight began, he could predict with near certainty where Orochi would be in a few seconds. _An advantage. Use it or lose it!_

Bringing out his wings, he shot skyward, looped to build up speed, and shot toward Orochi. He held both swords in front of him like a living spear.

The ninja whirled around and brought up his sword, but it was too late.

Lloyd thrust both swords into the ninja; one into his leg, one into his gut. Orochi managed to graze Lloyd's side, but the wound was superficial. Lloyd pulled the sword from the ninja's leg, but left the one in his gut. If it hadn't punctured a vital organ going in, it might very well coming out. The fight was over. No sense killing his opponent.

Orochi thought differently. He bit down on the handle of his own sword as he pulled Lloyd's out. He threw it from the battlefield and growled, "Weapon out of play!"

Lloyd held his remaining sword to the ninja's throat. "Orochi, give it up. You could be seriously injured. I have gels. Let me heal you."

"You touch those gels, you're disqualified!"

"Orochi, please—"

With a roar, the ninja batted the sword away and surged forward. He didn't make it far on an injured leg before he was forced to the ground by Lloyd's wing.

"Yield," Lloyd demanded.

The ninja slashed furiously at the wing, but his blade could not harm a construction of pure energy.

At the edge of the battlefield, the observer slammed a fist into his palm. Wondering what that might signal, Lloyd glanced up.

With Lloyd's attention diverted, Orochi wriggled free. He swung at Lloyd, but was blocked.

Fighting with one sword felt unnatural to the akimbo-style fighter, but Lloyd adapted well and, after only a few swings, sent the ninja's sword sailing from the battlefield. If he thought that would deter the ninja, he thought wrong. Orochi sent a flurry of punches into Lloyd's gut and face.

The observer slammed a fist into his palm twice. Orochi nodded. He reached into his gi, produced a card, pointed it at Lloyd, and screamed, "Shock!" A blue-white bolt of lightning shot from the card. Lloyd held out his sword and the metal attracted the electricity. The rubber coating on the hilt prevented it from shocking him, but he felt the blade vibrate from the attack's intensity. Just his luck, none of his current equipment protected against lightning. He hadn't foreseen Orochi employing elemental attacks. He cursed. _If that lightning had hit the star on my chest it would have fried my heart!_

"Shock!" Orochi called again.

And again the lightning hit the sword. This time the vibration shattered the hilt and the rubber coating flaked away. The sword was all metal now. _Too dangerous to hold!_ Lloyd plunged it into the ground. If he could keep it between him and Orochi...

"No!" the observer screamed. "Attach it to his skin!"

Orochi growled, "I'll handle it!"

"No! Leave Big Brother alone!"

"Hikari! Stay back!" Lloyd screamed.

The observer jumped for the little girl, but missed her. She ran onto the battlefield and pulled the sword from the ground. "I won't let you hurt him!"

So focused was Orochi, he didn't see her. "Shock," he screamed.

Lloyd flew faster than he thought possible, and interposed himself between Hikari and the oncoming lightning blast just in time. Its full force, channeled through the star, struck his heart. He collapsed, unmoving, onto the ground.

Orochi threw up his arms in celebration, until he saw Hikari. _Oh, God, no!_

The observer strode onto the battlefield. "The fight goes to Orochi," he announced. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Congratulations, Next Chief."

Orochi shook his head. "No, the battlefield was violated. The fight is a draw. Honor demands it." He crouched at Lloyd's side, turned him over, and checked his breathing. "Hikari, There are gels in Lloyd's bag. Go!"

She seemed reluctant to take orders from Orochi but in a moment nodded and went to retrieve the bag.

"You will be all right, my friend," he said.

Orochi grunted as he was hauled to his feet and turned around. "Kuchinawa, what are you—?"

"Your honor or your people?"

"What?"

"Lloyd is defeated. The how doesn't matter."

"He lost defending one of _my people from me!_"

"Your people need you," Kuchinawa growled"Declaring a draw is as good as admitting defeat. Sheena will be with Lloyd, and both she and the chiefdom will be lost to you."

"I cannot accept a victory like this. It goes against everything I believe."

"Don't be selfish. Will you give up Mizuho's future to save yourself a little guilt? I repeat, your honor or your people? Decide!"

Orochi nodded. "Okay, okay."

"Now clean yourself up. Mizuho doesn't need a bloodied hero."

Hikari ran back. "I've got the gel, Mr. Orochi."

Kuchinawa snatched it from her hand. "Here," he told Orochi. "Drink this."

"But—"

"Trust me."

"Mr. Orochi," Hikari said, "Please help him."

"Soon, Hikari, soon," he said. "I won't let him die. I promise." He ruffled her hair and peeled down his mask to swallow the gel.

"Help him or I'll tell everyone what you did." She pointed to Kuchinawa. "I saw you enter Mr. Orochi's house last night after I talked with Big Brother. I knew something was wrong, so this morning I hid in Big Brother's boat. You both cheated! I saw you. We don't make any cards like that. And Mr. Observer interfered. That's not 'lowed."

Kuchinawa crouched to her eye level, and squeezed her shoulders. "Such an observant little girl," he said. "Make sure you tell them everything, including the part about Lloyd smuggling you onto the Isle."

"I was hiding. He didn't know I was there."

"Can you be sure? If he did, he was disqualified the moment he stepped foot on the Isle."

"He didn't."

"Let's see what the elders think, hmm?"

"He...but..."

Kuchinawa placed a finger in front of his mask where his mouth would be. "Shh," he said, and then, very slowly to emphasize the gesture, slid his finger across his neck and pointed to Lloyd. "Wouldn't want to lose two brothers in the same week."

She nodded.

He turned and snapped, "Orochi, what are you doing?"

Orochi sat the empty gel flask by Lloyd's head. "I gave him enough to keep him alive. That is all."

■□■□■

"Cast thy purifying light upon these corrupt souls! Judgment!"

The words of Kratos sent the quickest invaders scrambling for cover and the not so quick to their graves. He flew through the air on spectral wings slicing down gargoyles and rheiard riders, flames from the burning houses reflecting in the pools of his eyes. Below him ran Genis, material blades strapped at his sides, swinging his kendama and pausing every few moments to speed-cast a devastating spell. Within minutes, they worked their way to Zelos's last known position near the village gates, leaving behind a trail of bodies and substantial property damage.

Kratos withdrew his sword from an eviscerated gargoyle and shook the blade to rid it of the clinging chunks of gray intestine. He scowled. There were far too many invaders for his taste, that is to say, too many for him to beat. What also bothered him: no offensive spells were coming from Zelos's position.

Genis had briefed him on who was here. Zelos and Raine were accounted for. Zelos was down—injured but alive, Kratos's enhanced senses told him. Raine was too busy keeping everyone alive to attack. Ah, there was Frank. The moderately powerful healer had zero offensive capabilities. But Dirk was nowhere in sight.

_Come on. Come on. There! _He spotted him disappearing over the gates held aloft by a gargoyle and looking to be in bad shape. Lloyd would never forgive him if he let the boy's foster father be taken. Nor would Kratos forgive himself. He thought very highly of the dwarf who had been such a comfort to his wife in her final moments and thereafter raised her son as his own.

Kratos flew toward the dwarf, but halted at the sound of a scream. Raine went down, and she wasn't getting up. Frank rushed forward to heal her, but his powers were tapped out. As an armored swordsman strode toward Raine, Frank raised his fists and valiantly stood his ground. He barely managed a "Leave her alone" before the swordsman backhanded him and sent him sprawling, blood gushing from his broken nose.

Kratos cursed. Dirk would have to wait.

Kratos shouted a command to Genis and descended double-quick. Ten feet from the ground, he doffed his wings, allowing the momentum of his fall to augment the force of his attack. "Light Spear Cannon!" he screamed and thrust his blade at the junction of two of the swordsman's armor plates. Concurrently, Genis screamed "Earth Bite!" and sent an attack of earth and lightning against he who dared threaten his sister. At the end of it all, the swordsman screamed

In agony.

"Excellent combo, Genis," Kratos said, before casting a Healing Wind over the battle­field that revitalized Zelos, Raine, and Frank.

"Thanks," Genis said, "Let's call it Light Bite."

Kratos shook his head and sighed, "Fine," before taking to the skies again. Crouching atop one of the guard towers at the village gates, he adjusted his vision to search the distance for Dirk. A man with normal eyesight would have seen the dwarf as a dot on the horizon, but Kratos saw him clearly, struggling against his captor's hold. Good. There was fire in his spirit yet.

Kratos glanced back at the group. His last spell had restored a third of their health, but that was a stopgap measure that did nothing to stem the tide of the invaders pouring in and attacking them. He made a command decision and descended to the group's side. Scooping up Raine and Frank and instructing Genis to bring the still dazed Zelos in the rheiard he'd just commandeered, he led the group in a strategic retreat.

Iselia had fallen, but he'd be damned if he let Lloyd's friends fall with it. Dirk was on his own until Kratos could get the group to a safe distance. If the invaders wanted to kill the dwarf, they would've done so here. They were taking him somewhere. For the time being, he'd stay alive. Then Kratos would find him. If he had to search all night, he'd find him. _For Anna and for Lloyd._

■□■□■

"I, Orochi Hebi, whose true name you know, _demand_ that you fulfill your responsi­bilities as Next Chief of Mizuho and become my bride."

Sheena regarded Orochi with a cool gaze. He'd leveled his challenge at her, and she wasn't afraid. She and Lloyd had been through too much to give up on one another now. _This _is _over, my former friend. You've lost. You just don't know it yet._

When she'd reached into her bag a moment before, searching for a miracle gel, her hand brushed across something that just might provide the solution to her problem. Had she ever doubted Mizuho's God before, she believed now. This was too fortuitous to be a coincidence.

Ignoring Orochi for the moment, she withdrew the gel. She poured most of it down Lloyd's throat and applied the last few drops to the wound on his chest. The flesh around the shuriken popped and fizzled, and the star-shaped projectile loosened enough for her to pull it out. "Sorry," she whispered when he winced. "I wish I could do more, but I can't call Undine." At his surprised look, she added, "I'll explain later."

When she looked up, she noticed Orochi receiving advice from the black-clad observer. "Once Lloyd has been healed," Orochi said, "he should be banned from the village as befits a defeated foe."

Sheena laid Lloyd's head down gently and rose.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"For once," she said, "let _me_ save _you_."

He nodded.

Sheena said, "I only see one foe here, Orochi, one who hasn't yet been defeated but soon will be."

"You will not challenge me, will you?" he croaked. "The traditions do not allow—"

"I don't have to," she said. "You've already lost."

She continued, "I've always admired how closely you studied our traditions. You had a head for it I never did. And I've never doubted your interpretations."

He nodded. "We would make a good team, my mind and your—"

"What do the traditions say about wish tags?"

Orochi exhaled. "Everyone knows about wish tags."

"Please," she said.

"All right. A Mizuhoan may inscribe any wish upon a small wooden tag, which he prays over and keeps nearby. When the wish comes true or is denied by God, he must break the tag and casts its halves into moving water to avoid bad luck."

"Exactly." Sheena circled him like a predator. "And what do you know about blood oath tags?"

He gasped. "Blood oath—"

"Tags, yes," she said. "Please enlighten us."

"It is a very old tradition—"

"It predates the marriage tradition you're trying to invoke, right?"

Orochi nodded. "Yes. And it is very sacred. If the maker of a wish tag is willing, he may spill his blood on the tag and swear to work toward the wish's fulfillment."

"No matter the personal cost."

He nodded again.

"God helps those who help themselves," she offered.

"That is the general idea."

The observer placed a hand on Orochi's arm, and whispered something into his ear.

Sheena snapped, "Quiet, Kuchinawa."

The crowd gasped.

Sheena continued. "The disguise isn't needed; you're always welcome in our village. But this is between Orochi and me."

Kuchinawa let his hand drop and walked away.

"So," she said, "you might say the blood tag trumps all other traditions."

"You might," Orochi said.

Sheena pulled a small bundle from her bag, untied a silken string, and let fall away the wrapping—a white handkerchief blotted with red. Inside was a small wooden tag inscribed with a prayer and stained with a dark substance.

"Read the prayer," Sheena demanded.

Orochi sighed. "It reads, 'Make Lloyd happy.'"

"And what's that staining the letters?"

"Blood," he said.

"Thank you, Orochi." She kneeled by Lloyd and took his hand. "I have sworn a sacred oath to do whatever I can to make you happy. What will make you happy?"

Lloyd smiled. "Being with you as long as we live."

"Then you will be." She moved forward and ever so gently, in the sight of all Mizuho, brushed her lips against his. Then she whispered, "Saved ya."

"My hero," he said.

She stood then, a new confidence welling up inside. "You are right about one thing, though," she said to Orochi. "Lloyd will leave the village. But he won't go alone. I'm going with him."

"Sheena?" Lloyd said.

She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, but he'd trust her.

"Mizuho is going with him," she said. "The land is dying. It has been since the worlds were rejoined. If we're to survive, we must find new land...that is, if the chief approves."

Igaguri stepped forward. "This day," he said, "my granddaughter has proven her cunning, her mercy, and her loyalty. If she believes this is the right decision, I will trust her judgment."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Sheena said.

"But I will not be making the journey with you. I am too old for such a thing."

"Grandpa, you can't!"

"I was born here, little one. Here I buried my wife and my children. I raised you here." He stroked her cheek. "And I will die here."

She hugged him. "We can't just leave you."

"I will remain," Orochi said, "if he will allow me."

The chief nodded. "That is acceptable."

"Thank you, Orochi," Sheena said. "When it's over, come back to us."

He nodded. "What my chief commands I will obey."

"Chief?"

"Yes, little one," Igaguri said. "You are my successor, are you not?" To the crowd, he spoke in a booming but age-worn voice, "When you reach your new home, Vice-chief Tiga will perform the official ceremonies, but, from this day forward, Sheena Fujibayashi is Chief of Mizuho."

"I'm not ready," she whispered.

"Believe in yourself as I believe in you."

"I'll try."

"That is all anyone can do." Igaguri sank to his knees. Sheena was puzzled until she noticed everyone else in the crowd doing the same. Then her cheeks flushed crimson.

Lloyd too had bowed and smiled broadly at her.

When she saw him, she smiled.

■□■□■

At the edge of the crowd Regal stood alongside the Vice-chief. Regal nodded in approval. _Leadership is a great burden, Sheena. I know you'll bear it well._

■□■□■

Orochi watched Sheena walk away and his dreams go with her. Even after what he'd done to her, she still offered her forgiveness. _Truly a remarkable woman._ Had he really expected her to love him after he'd gotten rid of Lloyd? Maybe, if she hadn't had that blood tag. No, he couldn't think that way. If he let it, second guessing past decisions could consume his life.

Time passed, the crowd dispersed, and Orochi remained alone at the riverside. It would be days before the village had readied itself for the move. Sheena had already left for Iselia, accompanied by Regal Bryant. A detachment of Mizuho's bravest warriors had departed at the same time by boat to reinforce the village defenses. Lloyd had been anxious to return just in case the king's troops arrived ahead of schedule. But the Vice-chief had prevailed upon him to remain behind and take counsel, and at last he relented. Orochi had considered talking with Lloyd, but, realizing any apology would sound hollow, he said nothing.

Into view slinked Kuchinawa, now wearing his signature red costume.

"Feel better?" Orochi asked.

"Feels like I'm in my own skin again."

"Snakes shed their skin," Orochi said. "It's a sign of rebirth."

"Shed yours as often as you want, they'll never forget the shade of this skin."

Orochi sighed. "What do you mean?"

"You're a traitor now—just like me—and they'll never trust you again. Never mind you did it all for them. Long after you're dead, you'll still be known as a traitor."

"So what do you want me to do?"

Kuchinawa shrugged. "Only what you've already decided on your own."

"Self-imposed exile."

"Join the club."

Orochi reached for his brother's arm. Reflexively, Kuchinawa shrank back. This made Orochi smile. "Exile won't be as bad with you as my right-hand man."

Kuchinawa grinned. "No way. That was pre-requisited on you marrying Sheena."

Orochi shook his head. "No, brother. You said, and I quote, 'If you win, I will return to the village as your right-hand man.'"

Kuchinawa laughed. "Clearly my intent was—"

Orochi laughed. "You're talking to Mizuho's foremost expert on ancient traditions. Trust me when I say intent doesn't matter."

"Well, I didn't think you'd actually win."

The Hebi brothers, back together again, slipped quietly from the village and laughed long into the night. Afterwards, they didn't laugh for quite some time.

■□■□■

"Frigid Meteor Storm!"

In the Iselia schoolhouse, the axe-wielder chuckled. "Some spell. A lot of hype and no substance. Just like you guys."

"Yeah," another invader added. "You missed."

Genis sank to his knees. _No, that wasn't right_ Even if he'd missed, the spell should have produced some visible effect. So far, nothing. Something was very wrong.

_...Patience, my friend..._

_Mithos._

The axe-wielder advanced. "See you on the other side," he said.

Genis couldn't move. The spell had exhausted him.

"Wait," an invader said. "What's that sound?"

Genis could hear it too. A rumbling coming from...the ground? No, the sky. Some­thing was headed this way. The schoolhouse shook. Desks overturned. The axe-wielder and his cohorts fell to the ground. Before Genis's eyes, blue and brown X's appeared on their torsos. _Targets,_ he realized.

The invaders noticed the targets too and clawed at them, but their hands passed through ineffectually.

The rumbling was almost deafening now, and Genis had to cover his ears to keep from crying out. The roof cracked and splintered as an icy meteorite, nearly as large as the classroom crashed through. In sickeningly slow motion, that could be designed only to maximize the victims' terror, it descended. Genis imagined he could hear every bone cracking, every organ bursting, every curse, and every last minute prayer to Martel as piece after piece of the meteorite broke off and pounded into every last invader. This pelting continued long after they were dead.

"Make it stop," Genis cried. "Please make it stop!"

_...Why would you want that?..._

"It's too cruel!"

_...They're your enemies..._

"I never meant to cause this much suffering!"

_...What do you expect? Use this much power on this few people, and of course they'll feel this much pain..._

"The more people I kill at once, the less pain they'll feel?"

_...I like the way you think..._

"Genis," a voice called. "Genis are you all right?"

The half-elf shook his head to clear out the last remnants of the daydream.

"Genis?"

"Raine?"

"Yes. This wasn't our fault. You know that, don't you?"

_What was she—? Oh, Iselia._

Kratos had led them to a location far enough from the village to be safe and hopefully in the right path to flag down Lloyd and Sheena as they returned from Mizuho. After that, he'd disappeared into the night to search for Dirk. Morning had come hours ago, and he still hadn't returned.

"Yeah," Genis said, "I know."

"You fought well, and I'm proud of you. I want you to know that."

"Thanks, Sis."

"You want to cook breakfast, or should I?"

In a blink, Genis had the pots in his hands and was slicing open a pouch of freeze-dried curry. _Freeze-_dried. He bit his lip. "Hey, Sis," he asked, "Why do you think Sheena had Mithos's voice in her head?"

Raine smoothed her shirt, settling in for a long discussion. "I would assume it's because she was bonded to his Cruxis Crystal."

"How much exposure do you think something like that would take?"

"Why do you ask?"

He gulped. "I was never bonded to Mithos's crystal, but I carried it for a while, longer than Sheena did actually. Is it possible I'd hear his voice?"

"If you haven't already, it probably won't happen." Raine said. "Still we shouldn't rule anything out." She wiped at a few smudges on her Exsphere. "When we wear Exspheres, we enter a symbiotic relationship with another's life force. Such a relation­ship may affect us in ways we couldn't understand without years of study. Mithos's life force was very strong. And a Cruxis crystal is much stronger than an ordinary Exsphere. In this case the symbiosis could conceivably be strong enough to make communication possible." She hesitated, then said, "Have you heard his voice, Genis?"

"N-no. I was just curious."

"You'd tell me if you did hear him, wouldn't you?"

Genis close his eyes. "Of course, Raine. I wouldn't hide something like that from you."

■□■□■

Midway between Meltokio and the base camp he'd set up for Zelos's group, Kratos landed. In four millennia of fighting, he had mastered techniques for managing his mana usage and drawing out his body's fullest potential. And he had learned his limits. There were times to press on and times to rest. He'd had his wings out with only brief respite for the better part of eight hours, and his mana reserves were dangerously low. Now was a time for rest.

It had taken him nearly an hour to locate Dirk's trail, or, more precisely, the trail of the winged creatures transporting him. Giving up never crossed his mind. Logic told him everything leaves a trail. A flier's might be harder to follow, but it's there if you know where to look. Incidentally, he'd seen (and smelled) far more gargoyle excrement that day than he ever wished.

He'd finally tracked the dwarf to Tethe'alla's capital. Taking the secret sewer route Genis told him about to enter the city, Kratos had found its military out in full force. A strictly enforced curfew resulting from martial law impeded his movements until he'd appropriated a suit of armor from a guard foolish enough to challenge him. Then he'd bluffed his way into the castle and found Dirk in the throne room being interrogated by none other than the king himself. And what a weird interrogation it had been. If the king were to be believed, securing Dirk had been one of the main objectives of the Iselia invasion. And the reason why was so outrageous Kratos momentarily doubted the king's sanity.

Kratos had wanted to bust Dirk out then and there, but by that point his mana was already waning. There was no way he could fight through all those troops, get Dirk out, and make it somewhere safe before collapsing from exhaustion or mana depletion.

So he'd left Dirk in enemy hands and snuck out. He hated to do it, but if the king believed half of what he told Dirk, then the dwarf was in no immediate danger. And if the accusations were true, locating Altessa had just become one of the Chosen's group's top priorities.

■□■□■

"Kratos?"

He'd dressed himself in tan and gray as a pauper so as not to be bothered should anyone pass his way while he slipped into a light doze.

"Is that you?"

"Sheena? Regal?"

"What are you doing here? And how?"

Kratos frowned. "We have much to discuss."

Some thirty minutes later, they had filled each other in on the pertinent information. Sheena was reluctant to disclose everything that had happened in Mizuho but felt she owed it to Lloyd's father. When he recounted the events in Iselia, Sheena became concerned for the Mizuhoan warriors who were on their way. Regal volunteered to take a rheiard to warn them and left her and Kratos alone.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Kratos ventured, "So you and my son?"

Sheena nodded. "Yes. Is...that all right?"

"What if it weren't? Would you stop?"

Sheena took a deep breath. "No. Nothing will stop us."

Kratos cast her a steady gaze. "Nothing?"

She matched his gaze. "Nothing."

A grin turned the corners of his mouth. "Good."

"So it _is_ all right?"

"Yes. If you'll permit me to say so, my son has very good taste."

Sheena blushed. "Thank you, sir." After a moment, she added, "I wish he hadn't gotten hurt fighting for me, though."

Kratos nodded. "As do I. But I've learned that, of the few things in this world worth fighting for, love is foremost."

"Sir, something has me puzzled."

"Sir? Why so formal, Sheena? If you are with my son, you should be, if anything, less formal."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can. All the great people in my life I refer to by title: the Chief, the Vice-chief—people I really admire."

"Admire?"

"Don't get me wrong. When we were comrades, your opinion meant nothing to me."

"I see."

"I don't mean that as an insult," she continued, "though I don't suppose you could have taken that any other way. Heh. Sorry. But now that Lloyd and I are together, you're the father of the man I love. And your approval matters to me.

"You have it."

"Just like that?"

Kratos shook his head. "Of course not. It's been half a year in coming. I kept my eye on you while we traveled together, especially after I noticed those looks you were giving my son."

She blushed.

"My observation taught me that you are an honorable person, a strong fighter, and a worthy partner for Lloyd. So, don't call me 'sir.' When you're ready, call me 'Dad.'"

"Okay...Dad. Heh, that feels weird."

"What is it you wished to ask me?"

"Oh, right," she said, "You said Origin brought you back. How? When Lloyd sent you to Derris-Kharlan, it stretched Origin's powers to the max. There's no way he should've been able to reach you after the planet drifted for a year."

"Intelligent question, Sheena. He wasn't."

"I don't understand."

"How long has it been since I left? A year?"

"Just about."

"Not for me. The Eternal Sword controls time and space. I said good-bye to Lloyd only half a day ago. Then I saw a bright flash of light, and a moment later I was in Genis's house with Lloyd nowhere in sight. That's right, Sheena. Origin didn't transport me through space. He transported me through time."

■□■□■

The words of Martel echoed in Colette's mind: "You have become an unclean vessel."

After their battle with the ogdoad troops, Colette and Presea pressed on toward their goal, traveling by night and staying as close as possible to whatever patches of forest growth they could find, so that, at the end of three days, they reached the House of Salvation in time to bed down for the night. When Colette awoke the next morning, Martel was floating at the foot of her bed.

Colette called out her goddess's name in exhilaration, then immediately clamped hands over her mouth, looking sheepishly toward her companion's bed.

"Do not worry, Colette," Martel said. "Presea will not awaken. You wished to speak to me alone, and so you will."

"Thank you," Colette said. "I'm glad to see you here. I thought I'd have to travel all the way to the Great Tree."

To Colette, who rarely let a day pass without praying to Martel even after finding out the truth of her origin, speaking to her in person should have been easy, if a bit more intimidating. Surprisingly, it turned out to be quite difficult, though she thought it likely the gravity of the subject matter, rather than any reticence on her part, was the culprit.

She took a deep breath, and poured out her heart. "I was born to die, to sacrifice my life so you might live again and regenerate the world. As the Chosen of Mana, this was my only purpose, and I was thankful and humbled—to think, out of every family in Sylvarant, the goddess Martel chose mine!" Her face fell. "But it meant never having what I wanted most. Lloyd was the first boy to treat me as a real person and not a religious figure. I knew better, but I couldn't stop myself; I fell in love with him.

"He wouldn't let me sacrifice myself. He worked so hard to give me a normal life." Her brow crinkled. "Why would he do that if he didn't want to be with me? I meant to tell him, after the journey, that I loved him too. But things happened so fast, and before I knew it he was off on another journey. With _her_."

Colette squeezed her fists so tightly her knuckles lost their color. "It isn't fair! Lloyd is all I ever wanted. I would have given him up for the world—you know I would have. But now that I have a chance at a normal life, he is taken away from me! If he meant to abandon me, he shouldn't have saved me in the first place."

Martel listened patiently, never prodding, just allowing the girl to speak her peace.

"I don't understand, Martel. The only thing that ever made sense to me was being the Chosen. I had a purpose, and now nothing. Martel, please help me fulfill my purpose: Make me your vessel."

Martel's eyes widened. _Oh, Colette._ At last she spoke, "I have a vessel."

"A vessel of metal. I'm real, flesh and blood—feel my hands." She clutched at Martel's hands. "They're warm, not cold like Tabatha's."

"Colette…"

"I'm willing, and we're compatible. I was bred to be compatible."

"There are people who love you."

"Father and Grandmother gave me up before the Journey of Regeneration. Why should they want to keep me now? The only person who wanted me to live at the expense of everything else was Lloyd, and he doesn't need me anymore."

"I am sorry, Colette," Martel said, "but you are wrong."

"But—"

"Even if you weren't, you have become an unclean vessel. Your thirst for blood and your reckless disregard for your friends cannot be ignored."

Colette's eyes darted to the black-lacquered knife leaning against the wall. The knife, with its serrated teeth, grinned at her like a demon. Desiccated flecks of blood that only enhanced vision could see clung to the teeth despite her best efforts at cleaning. Surely, Martel saw them too.

"Your Scriptures teach that if we confess, you'll forgive," Colette said. "I confess!"

"I'm no goddess, Colette, and I've never read those scriptures."

Colette pounded her fists on the bed. "There has to be a way."

"Why are you so eager to die?"

"Tell me why I should live!"

If emotions could be smelled, Martel reflected, Colette would reek of desperation. "What do the scriptures teach about suicide?"

"It's a sin," Colette said, "but sacrifice is a holy service."

"Needless sacrifice?"

Colette's lip trembled.

"All right, Colette." Martel let out a ragged sigh. "If you wish to become my vessel, I will allow it. But first, you must complete a task for me."

"Anything!"

"Bring me my father."

"Your father?"

"Tabatha's father, Altessa. If I'm to cast her off like a filthy cloak, the least I can do is let her see him one more time. Besides, I sense that he will play a great role in coming world events. Bring him to the Great Tree, and it will be as you wish." With that, Martel faded away.

And Presea began to stir.

By the time her pink-haired companion had fully awakened, Colette had transformed herself into the cheerful, smiling girl she had been. "Good morning, Presea. Hurry and get dressed if you want to see me off."

"See you off?"

"Uh-huh. This is where we part ways, remember? You agreed."

"Oh, of course."

The girls quickly cleaned, dressed, and had a cold meal. Colette considered slipping away while the other girl was occupied, but Presea stuck persistently close the entire morning. To Colette's annoyance, Presea packed and acted as if she planned to remain in her company. A few minutes later, while Presea waited just outside the House's only exit, Colette slipped a few extra gald pieces into the matron's hand.

Shutting the door, Colette said, "Good news! The matron has agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need. It isn't safe for you to go back to Iselia like we agreed, so, after you've rested, I want you to head home, okay."

"In which direction are you headed?" Presea said, adjusting the straps on her backpack.

Colette told her.

"Would it not make sense for us to travel together since we are headed in the same direction?"

"I told you I needed to do this alone."

"And I told you—"

"Yes, I know. You need to see if friendship is worth anything. But you agreed to stop traveling with me once we reached the House of Salvation, and we're here."

Presea shook her head. "No, I agreed to go back to the village. Now you're telling me not to. Thus, our agreement is annulled."

Colette meant to argue the point ("Circumstances change plans, but you've been planning this from the start, haven't you?"), but halted abruptly when Presea pulled a wing pack from her backpack.

"Besides, if I continue to travel with you, we can use this."

"Presea, please, let me borrow it!"

"If you wish to use the rheiard, I must accompany you."

"But—"

"That is my price."

"Fine," Colette harrumphed. "Wait a minute, you had a rheiard all this time and didn't mention it. We could have gotten here in hours instead of days."

Presea shook her head. "Walking allowed us to avoid the king's flying patrols."

"Not to mention it allowed you to travel with me longer," Colette said.

"That too."

"You little conniver."

■□■□■

**Next:** One week later. An epilogue of sorts to Mizuho Mishap and a preview of Book three wherein Lloyd's daihyo is at long last revealed. Votes are tallied; Zelos and Regal are neck and neck, but it's still anybody's race.

**Bonus:**

Self-Indulgent Note on Overall Chronology:

**Book one **occurs over the space of four days.

_Day one_ – Ch. 1 (random fight)

_Day two_ – Chs. 2-6 (Arrival in Iselia _through_ the Council of Zelos)

_Day three_ – Chs. 7-10 (Lloyd gathers his friends _through_ Zelos knocks some sense into him)

_Day four_ – Ch. 11 (Lloyd and Sheena confess their love)

**Book two** (Chs. 12-17) occurs over the space of two days (with the exception of the forthcoming chapter seventeen which occurs on one day a week later)

**Note:** Book two is presented in thematic rather than chronological order. Thus, while the various fights are inter-cut with one another, they do not in fact occur at the same time. For instance, the invasion of Iselia is over hours before the Sheena/Regal and Lloyd/Orochi fights even start.

_Day five _:

- Iselia events from Lloyd and Sheena helping Dirk with the fortifications (ch. 12, scene 2) _through_ the end of the invasion (ch. 16, scene 3)

- All Colette and Presea events

- Mizuho events from Lloyd and Sheena's arrival (ch. 14, scene 1) _through_ Lloyd's talk with Hikari (recalled in ch. 15, scene 5)

- Kratos tracking Dirk to Meltokio (recalled in ch. 16, scene 8)

_Day six_:

- All Altamira events

- Mizuho events on the day of the Lloyd/Orochi battle

- Genis's and Raine's conversation

- Kratos resting on the plains of Iselia

- Kratos's and Sheena's conversation

One week later

_Day thirteen_ – All events in chapter 17

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	17. One Week Later

**A suggestion: **Consider rereading Chapter Five – A dwarven digression before continuing.

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and place names appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 17: One Week Later  
_**

Lloyd yawned. He hated downtime, especially when there was so much to do. He had villagers to save (the Iselians in the human ranch—captured during the invasion—and those holed-up in the MartelTemple), a foster dad to rescue, and a master summoner to help re-forge expired pacts.

"Will ya keep it down over there?"

As if his to-do list weren't motivation enough for him to recover, he had the tent-mate from hell—the man most injured in the Iselia invasion, Zelos Wilder.

He'd wanted to be furious with Zelos for getting the timing of the invasion so wrong, but he couldn't. If the invasion had caught Mizuho's information network off guard, how could Zelos be blamed for missing it?

"Keep what down?" Lloyd said.

"Whatever noise you're making. I'm trying to get my beauty sleep."

"It's almost noon. Wake up, already."

"And do what? Raine won't let us out of the medical tent until we're fully healed."

"Comb your hair again. You seem to enjoy that." _And _you_ left the tent three times yesterday._

"Look who's getting a backbone," Zelos snorted. "Careful, Lloyd. Get me mad, and I won't give you any more relationship advice."

Lloyd cocked his head to the side. "Have you ever actually had a relationship?"

"That's cold."

"I'm serious. I know you've dated a lot—"

"Lloyd, don't go there."

"But—"

"Don't."

Lloyd threw up his hands. "Fine. Sorry."

The ensuing silence was abated only by the gentle scraping of Zelos filing his finger­nails. At least Lloyd hoped it was his fingernails. Yesterday he'd caught the redhead filing his toenails. Nothing wrong with that, but watching it made Lloyd uneasy.

"Hey, Lloyd," Zelos said, "Tell me something: Why Sheena?"

"What do you mean?"

"What about her made you fall in love?"

Lloyd couldn't answer right away. "Everything?" he ventured at last.

Zelos shook his head. "You're not getting off that easily. Be specific."

"Why are you asking me?"

"You wanted to do something. We're doing something."

Lloyd grunted. "Okay. Sheena's special. She understands me."

"You're not that hard to understand."

"You'd be surprised."

Zelos nodded. "Go on."

"We talk together. We laugh together. We think the same way. And every time we touch, I feel—get your mind out of the gutter—I feel happy. She makes me happy." His eyes widened, and his face lit up. "And I make her happy."

"Don't rub it in,' Zelos mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Zelos said. "Couldn't you say the same thing about Colette? You liked being with her, right?" _And you made her happy._

"Yeah, but that was different."

"How?"

"Zelos, why are you asking these questions?"

"I'm just trying to figure out"—_if you're worthy of the woman I lo—_"why you chose one girl over another." Zelos grinned a fake grin, and then added, "So I'll know if I ever meet the one." _Yeah, he'll buy that._

Lloyd nodded, "Okay, sure, I guess that makes sense."

Zelos sighed in relief.

"Hey," Lloyd said suddenly, "you ever heard the term 'daihyo?'"

■□■□■

By hour three of the day's war council, Sheena's uncertainties had fled in the face of her responsibilities. She still felt them, likely would for weeks or months to come, but had no time to indulge them. Indeed, it seemed she had time for little these days that did not directly involve the chiefdom. She hadn't even seen Lloyd since settling into the current camp. (The group had moved camp three times in the last week, the regular patrols in the skies between Meltokio and Iselia making this an unfortunate necessity.) The constant moving must be playing havoc on Lloyd's health.

At her grandfather's request, she'd retained most of his advisors. To their chagrin, she'd added one of her own. The benefits of having the counsel of a four-thousand-year-old angel should have been apparent, but the advisors couldn't see past the fact that he wasn't Mizuhoan. Realizing this made Sheena thankful for her years spent away from home, if for no other reason than it spared her from becoming—she hesitated to use the term—racist. Still, she wondered if she were relying too fully on Kratos; she didn't want to appear weak.

"Taka, report," she said.

From a cluster of ninjas standing at the entrance of the tent, a young woman stepped forward and bowed low. "Yes, Chief. I infiltrated the human ranch as ordered."

"And the Iselians?"

"They are in poor spirits but mostly uninjured. Many blame your…_ano_…"

Sheena sighed. "You may speak freely, Taka."

"Yes, Chief. Many blame Lloyd Irving for failing to defend them," she said, then quickly added, "But some hold out hope that the Chosen will save them."

"The Chosen who is nowhere to be found," Sheena mumbled. At full volume, she asked, "Guards?"

"Two and a half dozen."

Vice-chief Tiga, seated at Sheena's left, gasped. "That many to guard eighty people, most of whom are women and children! Surely, the king does not see them as that great of a threat."

Taka raised her hand and, when acknowledged, said, "I overheard guards bragging that the king has more troops than tasks for them to complete."

"Thirty to guard eighty because he has nothing better for them to do," Sheena said. "Then how many does he have hunting us?"

"Many more, I'd wager," Kratos said.

Taka bowed again. "Is there anything else, Chief?"

"Yes, you're favoring your arm. Were you injured?"

Washi, one of Sheena's advisors, a lithe man in his fifties with a protruding beak of a nose, flinched. Taka caught his eye, and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"Not badly," she said.

Sheena smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Thank you for your service. You may go." To another ninja, she said, "Karasu, how are the Iselians in the temple?"

Before he could answer, however, a cheerful voice called out, "Hey, Sheena!"

A moment later, swords, cards, and kunai were in the hands of every junior ninja in the tent, as they prepared to defend their ruling council to the death. The threat? A limping Zelos Wilder with a humongous grin plastered on his face.

"Stand down," Sheena commanded.

The ninjas backed off but did not lower their weapons.

"We're in council, Zelos," Sheena said. "This isn't a good time."

"That's what I told your boyfriend, but he wouldn't quit nagging."

"Lloyd sent you?"

■□■□■

Was a pimple too much to ask for? Or maybe a horn, grown up overnight, in the center of her forehead?

Sheena was as beautiful as ever, and nothing detracted from that, not even the dull brown clothing she wore. Rather, her Successor costume, clashing with her exposed face and hands, served only to highlight their perfection. Her skin was flawless, her hair messy, wild. Fatigue had painted dark semicircles beneath her eyes, but even they added to her loveliness by drawing attention to her soft coffee-colored eyes.

Zelos sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

**Five minutes ago**

"I'm serious, Zelos. You've done more than anyone else to get me and Sheena together. I want you to be my daihyo."

Zelos snorted. Was he supposed to feel honored? He didn't. Giving Lloyd a little nudge was one thing, but actively, day in, day out helping him cultivate a relationship with a woman Zelos thought he himself might love—that was too much. Sheena would never love him, he accepted that. But that didn't mean he had to torture himself. There must be a way out. "Can't do it, Bud," he said.

"Why not?"

_Yeah, why not?_ "Well, because…you didn't answer my question."

"I thought I did."

"What? 'She makes me happy.' Swords make _you_ happy."

Lloyd frowned. "I see. If I answer your question, you'll do it."

"Right," Zelos nodded. _He'll never be able to answer me._

Lloyd locked eyes with Zelos and said, "There are many reasons I love Sheena, but this is one: Colette needed my protection, but Sheena needs me."

Zelos growled, "Damn."

**Present**

Zelos doubted Colette would agree with Lloyd's assessment, but it had been a step in the right direction. _Good answer, Bud._

Bowing low before Sheena, Zelos said, "Sheena Fujibayashi, I, Zelos Wilder, come on behalf of Lloyd Irving to make known to you his esteem and his affection."

Sheena rose, tipped her head, and said, "I, Sheena Fujibayashi, am deeply honored by Lloyd Irving's interest. At the proper time, I shall send my own daihyo to begin negotiations."

Zelos nodded, and excused himself. "I'll be waiting, my voluptu—my friend."

Sheena closed her eyes and, when she opened them, was back in chief mode. "Karasu," she said, "please report."

■□■□■

A half hour later, bleary-eyed Sheena ended the council prematurely. After receiving Kratos's pointers gracefully ("You should not be so effusive in your praise-giving."), she practically ran to Raine's tent. When she entered, she found Raine's younger brother flipping through a book and greeted him with warmth. "Hi, Genis."

Steadily avoiding eye-contact, Genis mumbled something incomprehensible and left her alone with his sister. Sheena wasted no time puzzling over his avoidance, just chalked it up to the oddities of adolescence and turned her attention toward Raine.

"Sheena, or should I say, 'Chief?'" Raine teased.

"Please don't," Sheena laughed. "I barely hear my own name anymore. I'm sick of titles."

They hugged then, and few hugs in her life ever meant more. The brief contact told her that, however the events of the last week might have hurt Colette, Raine and Sheena's relationship would survive. What a relief. That would make what she was about to ask easier.

"Would you be my daihyo?" she blurted.

When Raine said nothing, just regarded Sheena with an odd look, she bit her lip. Had she misjudged the meaning of the hug?

Then Raine grasped Sheena's hand. "Oh, yes, of course I will be."

"You had me worried," Sheena said.

"I'm sorry about that, but weren't you listening to me?"

"I guess I wasn't," Sheena said. "I've been sitting through reports all day, and my mind was wandering. Sorry."

"I understand, but I'm sure you'll want to hear this. It's about Lloyd, and it's not good."

■□■□■

Presea's axe demolished Altessa's front door in three smooth strokes. Before, the dwarf had never locked his door. Losing Tabatha, though, cost him the best security system this side of Toize Valley. Perhaps more importantly, it cost him his only source of companionship. The Chosen's group had intended to look in on him from time to time, but, as Colette's smitten conscience reminded her, they'd let that responsibility slide.

"Altessa, are you in here?" Colette called out. She turned toward Presea. "Maybe he's out."

"Unlikely," Presea responded. "His door was locked from the inside."

"Then he's here," Colette concluded. "Altessa!"

"You check the bedroom, I'll check the workshop," Presea said. By "workshop," she meant the partially walled-off area to the far left. There were actually two workshops in the home. The second, beyond the cordon in the back, she hoped to avoid. Bad memories, worse nightmares.

"Not here," Colette called.

"Nor here," Presea returned. That left the second workshop. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she led Colette past the cordon. The room was just as she remembered it: bank of file cabinets along one wall, Cruxis computer system and two man-sized, fluid-filled cylinders along another, and the entrance to a tunnel that led down to the heart of the mountain along the third.

"He's not here, either," Colette whined. "Should we check the tunnel?" she said, peering into the darkness. "Ah, I can't see a thing."

Presea didn't respond. The file cabinets held fast her attention. How many of those files were about her? She could easily imagine Altessa keeping a detailed account of her torture to pass on to his Cruxis masters:

_Day Three: Subject cried two hours for Daddy; experiment not delayed. _

_Day Fifteen: Subject showed signs of great physical discomfort; experiment not delayed._

_Day Twenty-two: Physical scars from last week's procedure fading away; experiment will proceed._

_Day Forty-seven: Subject had discovered futility of crying; I am enjoying the quiet; experiment proceeding well._

Those files should not exist. Without realizing she was doing it, she raised her axe.

An indicator light at the top of one of the cabinets began blinking.

"Oh, Presea," Colette said, "was this where..?"

Presea nodded and lowered her axe.

"These cylinders?"

"Just the one on the right. I spent plenty of time submerged in that one. The one on the left was off limits. I almost got into it once by mistake, and Altessa became very angry."

Colette brushed her hand over the smooth, cool surface of the forbidden cylinder. Its condition was pristine, as if it had been polished recently. She frowned at its color; she hated lavender.

"Well, let's check the tunnel," she said, unveiling her wings, and flooding the dark entrance with a glowing pink light. "Look, no need for a torch."

Ten minutes and a half-mile later, they found Altessa at the tunnel's abrupt and unexpected end. The old dwarf sat hugging his knees and rocking amidst a haphazard scattering of luggage. At his feet lay a burnt-out torch. "It makes no sense," he muttered, "No sense at all. It makes no sense."

Colette sank down beside him against the rough gray stone wall. "Altessa, what's wrong?"

His eyes snapped open, and he groped her shoulders with such violence that she cried out. Presea grabbed for his hand, but Colette waved her off.

"This tunnel," he said, "leads to my ancestral home. I've been down there dozens of times. But it stops here."

"Maybe there was a cave-in."

"No, no, no. Don't you think I thought of that?" He scooped up the unlit torch and held it toward the wall, not noticing that it gave off no illumination. "Look here," he said, gesturing madly. "This is solid rock. The tunnel was dug this far and no farther. You can see the marks of the pick-axes. Dwarves live miles belowground, and this tunnel was dug no farther. And it was dug _from_ the surface. From, from, from the surface." He struck the wall with his fist. "I can't possibly have come from down there. So why do I remember coming from down there? Why do I remember something that _could not_ have happened?"

Presea eyed him with disgust. _The old dwarf finally snapped. Serves him right. _

"Don't look at me like that," he growled. "I may be old, but I'm not senile. I couldn't invent a lifetime of memories. I remember sitting at my father's knees hearing stories of brave, fierce dwarven warriors. That's not a lie. It can't be!"

"I remember my father as well," she snapped, "and my sister. They're dead because of you!"

"Presea!" Colette said.

"It can't be a lie, but it can't be the truth. This was the only entrance, the only entrance I ever used. The only entrance..."

Colette lowered Altessa's head onto her lap as he sank into unconsciousness. She used the opportunity to look him over. "He's burning up, dehydrated, and malnourished. I can heal him, but we have to get fluids into him. Hand me your water skin." After Colette cast her healing spell, a little smile appeared on Altessa's face, stretching his lips and cracking the brittle skin. "He must have been down here for days. Presea, the water?"

But Presea leaned, arms crossed, against the tunnel wall.

"Presea, please."

"Fine," she said, reaching into her backpack.

When Colette had poured a few drops of the precious liquid down the dwarf's parched throat, and he responded with a coughing fit, Presea apologized. "I'm sorry. This place brings out the worst in me."

"Yeah, that wasn't like you at all."

"How do you know what I'm like? _I_ don't know."

"I'm your friend," Colette said, smiling, "and friends know things about us we don't know about ourselves. You're loyal, kind, and dependable. You have a good heart. So that outburst was definitely out of character."

"Thank you," Presea said. "If it's safe, I'll move Altessa to the surface now."

"Sure."

■□■□■

"You people are so stubborn," Raine said. "First, Colette didn't tell me about her chronic injury, and now I find out Lloyd's been hiding an injury since the end of the Regeneration Journey. I'm a healer, not a mind-reader. I need to be told these things if I'm to help."

"You're absolutely right," Sheena said.

"Are you hiding anything from me?" She gave Sheena's bicep a squeeze. "A strained muscle from your duel with Kuchinawa perhaps? Is your arm sore?"

"Ow! It is now."

After the lecture, Raine moved on to the issue at hand, Lloyd's condition, which, as it turned out, she explained with another lecture. "We've encountered two types of angels on our journeys—those with feathered wings and those with spectral wings. Those with spectral wings become angels because of their exposure to two things: advanced Exspheres, like Cruxis crystals or Angelus Exspheres, and the toxic substance Aionis.

"Colette's crystal combined with the effects of the seals facilitated her transformation. I theorize that the seals were Aionis chambers, infusing her with air-born dosages, which soon triggered her Angel Toxicosis. Zelos ingested Aionis directly. He experienced a mild case of AT, but Cruxis gave him drugs to fight it."

"You think Lloyd's injury is from AT!" Sheena gasped.

"Not necessarily. Lloyd's is a special case. He never ingested Aionis, just wore the pact ring. Does he still wear it?"

Sheena shook her head. "No, he said he lost it during the last battle with Mithos."

"Lost it?"

"Yes, he took off his glove, and it was gone."

"Unlikely; you can't lose a ring you wear beneath your glove."

"Oh, yeah."

"It's more likely," Raine said, "that his body absorbed it, and then, at the right time, combined it with the powers of his Angelus Exsphere and the energies of the Eternal Sword to complete his transformation."

"Will he be all right?"

"He could live a long, healthy life…"

Sheena sighed in relief.

"…Or he could be dead in a year. I just don't know." At Sheena's look of horror, Raine added, "I'm overly cautious by nature—you know that. I'm going to keep researching this. Sybak has an excellent library as does Melto—Sybak has the books I need."

"How toxic are we talking?"

"You saw what happened to Colette. Every time Lloyd uses his angel powers, it's like opening a floodgate. Aionis floods his system."

"If Lloyd is suffering from Angel Toxicosis, can't we use the cure we gave Colette?"

Raine shrugged. "It might work, but, as I told you, Lloyd's is a special case. Judging by his wingspan alone, he must have received a pretty hefty Aionis dosage. The cure might not work."

"It's worth a shot," Sheena said. "I'll send out a squad to gather the components immediately."

"I'd like to go with them. Frank and Kratos can handle healing duties while I'm gone."

"If this is about our not telling you our medical problems—"

"It isn't. Sybak is on the way. I need to get cracking on that research."

"All right." Sheena nodded. "I'll send Taka and Karasu with you. You'll be taking Genis, I assume."

"Hmm. No, I think not. He'd rather stay here."

"Then I'll send a fourth to round out your squad."

"Great. I'll get my things."

■□■□■

Sheena's breath caught in her throat when she found Lloyd stripped to the waist, massaging his arm. Gray splotches marred the flesh of his shoulder, remnants of the deep bruising from last week's fight. That they hadn't healed completely yet despite numerous treatments was unsettling enough. Worse were the spider-web-thin lines of black in the center of the bruises that Raine told her were growing. Angel Toxicosis? Colette's flesh had borne similar marks during her bout with the disease. But hers had covered most of an arm, whereas Lloyd's were just getting started. A good sign, Sheena decided.

She forced herself to smile when Lloyd noticed her standing at the entrance of the tent.

"Hey, Sheena, what are you doing here?" he said.

Making a great show of looking him up and down, she said, "Enjoying the view."

He quickly pulled on a shirt.

"I haven't seen you in a while. I thought I'd spend the afternoon with you," Sheena said, "unless you don't want to."

"Of course I do."

She sat down at the edge of his cot. "How's the shoulder?"

"Gels aren't really helping, but it's all right as long as I don't strain it."

"Come here," she said, patting the cot. He complied. "Sit with your back to me." When he shifted into position, she gently massaged his collarbone and shoulders, then hooked an arm around his waist and under his shirt.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Taking off your shirt, love," she said and kissed his neck. "I want to help you relax."

His eyes widened. "What?"

From her pocket she pulled a jar. "We have this ointment in my village that works wonders."

"Oh," he said. "The Vice-chief gave me some. It smelled awful."

"It all depends on who makes it." She opened the top and held it under his nose. "See? I add a bit of lilac and hyacinth. What do you think, smells good, huh?" She draped her head over his shoulder—his good shoulder—to watch his reaction.

He sniffed. "Hey, it does. You made this?"

"Uh-huh. I'm multi-talented."

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then leaned back to massage in the ointment. He groaned when she squeezed too hard and moaned when she squeezed just right. Soon, he was nodding off.

"You know," she said, "it wasn't very appropriate for your daihyo to approach me in public."

"'In Mizuho, love must be conducted in secret.'" Lloyd sucked air through his teeth. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Considering our _very_ public proclamation of everlasting love at the riverside, nothing about our romance will be secret." She giggled. "But it all worked out. Your dad sug­gested that who the Chief is _with_ concerns the whole village. That made it council business."

"Maybe we need someone to control what gets out about us."

"Like a gossip wrangler? Any suggestions?"

"Hikari," they said together and burst into laughter.

The massage/cuddling session lasted for some time after that, Lloyd almost falling asleep more than once. One thought kept worrying him, though, and he decided to question her about it before sleep at last claimed him.

"Sheena, what did you mean when you said, 'let me save you for once?'"

She stopped the massage. "Lloyd…"

"I want to know."

"You save me all the time. I wasn't pleased that you were hurt, but it felt good being the hero, _your_ hero." Her voice had nearly cracked on "hurt," but she forced herself to continue, praying he hadn't noticed.

He covered her hand with his. "You've saved me plenty. I've never thought of you as a damsel in distress. I may act like that on occasion—that's who I am—but you are my partner in every part of my life and in the truest sense of the word."

Sheena wrapped her arms around him and pulled him back against her chest. Long after Lloyd had fallen asleep, Sheena sat, holding him and thinking.

■□■□■

_I meant every word I said, Sheena. I believe in you. But I'm not sure I believe in myself anymore. Even if you don't need my protection, I have to be able to capable of providing it._

Right before he fell asleep, Lloyd made a decision. The next time he saw Kratos, he would take him aside and say, "Dad, there's something wrong with me. Every time I bring out my wings—and I'm bringing them out all the time lately—my left arm gets more and more useless. I'm trying to find a way to combat that, but you taught me never to rely on only one option. I need to know how to fight with only one blade: I need you to train me."

■□■□■

End Book 2: Mizuho Mishap  
To be continued in:  
**The Swordsman and the Summoner  
Book 3: The Ogdoad and the Eath Elemental**

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**Bonus:**

**New Characters:**

-the Tori family  
--Washi (50s, a member of the Mizuho ruling council; name means Eagle)  
--Taka (teens, a mid-level ninja; name means Hawk)  
--Karasu (twenties, a mid-level ninja; name means Raven/Crow)

**Note:** Mizuho is a chiefdom; consequently, all power rests in the chief (or, in the case of his absence or incapacitation, in the Vice-chief). The chief surrounds himself with a group of advisors, known officially as the Ruling Council and popularly as the Elders. Though they hold no political power, they do wield great influence, and the chief defies them at his own peril. In this story, the following members have been revealed:

- Vice-chief Tiga  
- An unnamed female with a fancy hairstyle (Ch. 14)  
- Washi (Ch. 17)  
- Kratos Aurion (new temporary member – Ch. 17)

**Note: **Check out_ Corinne's Killa_, a Sheloyd oneshot by me.

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**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	18. Ogdoad Part 1: Night Terrors

_The Swordsman and the Summoner_ had surpassed ten thousand hits. Thanks. Our next goal: 150 reviews. And...go!

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NAMCO Tales Studio Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**Book 3: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental**

_**Chapter 18: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental Part 1: Night Terrors  
**_

"He's alive, Lloyd! My grandpa is alive. Please let's go back to Mizuho—just for a little while. I have to see him."

Lloyd agreed, smiling.

Sheena practically squealed her thanks and threw her arms around him. She imme­diately withdrew, blushing madly. Another moment and she would have kissed him. The blush did not last long, though. The inhibitions that restrained her as tightly as Regal's shackles did him were unloosed by today's excitement. For ten years—more than half her life—her grandfather had been in a coma. Today, however, because of this wonderful man Lloyd Irving and his quest to save the worlds, she had spoken with Grandpa's detached spirit and convinced him to return to his body. She could never regain the time they had lost, but every moment from here on out she determined to make count.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The desire to hug Lloyd flared again. She had been falling for the guy for the better part of a month now, but that had little to do with this bout of physical expressiveness. Hell, she would have hugged Zelos if he'd gotten Grandpa back. Well, maybe not Zelos. She threw a glance the redhead's way. When he noticed, he bumped past the other members of their group and fell into step alongside her, grinning as if expecting his hug. _Too late, pervert. I've got my good sense back._ He pouted as she turned away and moved closer to Lloyd

A short rheiard ride later, they stood at Grandpa's door. Being Mizuho's political center, his house never stood empty; the Vice-chief and one or two council members were always about in addition to the steady stream of healers insisting their newest herbal concoctions would revive the chief lickety-click. But now the house was packed, almost bulging at the sides. It was all she could do to squeeze past well-wishers and elated council members, hand-in-hand with Lloyd. This gesture _was_ because of her affection for him (might as well put those lowered inhibitions to some use after all) though she told him it was to avoid being separated in the press of the crowd. Heh. Fiery cheeks would accompany her every look in his direction for a month.

But the moment she spotted the edge of Grandpa's kimono, Lloyd was forgotten. She dropped his hand and put both of hers over her mouth to stifle her peals of giddy laughter, though she doubted anyone would fault her impropriety on this occasion.

The crowd still blocked her view of him, and she worried they would tire him out before she had her chance to speak with him. His body had lain sedentary for such a long time that, even though the healers exercised his muscles daily, it would take him weeks to get used to moving again. She needn't have worried. Word of her arrival soon worked its way through the crowd, and it parted, creating a path for her.

Suddenly shy, she dropped her gaze. Now that Grandpa saw her with his own eyes again, would he be disappointed?

"Come forward, little one. Let me have a look at you."

"Oh, Grandpa, I missed you so much." It took great restraint not to leap into his arms. She was no longer a child of nine, and he, though she had never known him to be spry, had passed into his life's autumn. Instead, she took in his appearance in stages, beginning with his feet in their tabi socks and sandals then moving up the skirt of his kimono only to pause at his midsection in puzzlement. Why was he seated in a chair? Chairs were a rarity in Mizuho. Indeed, a mother's lap was the last seat for most villagers; from there, it was straight to the floor in the seiza style—knees together, toes pointed backwards. A couple of chairs, old, broken-down things, were kept in a storage shack near the well for teaching prospective spies of the outside world. But the chair the Chief now occupied was anything but old and broken-down. It was grand, rivaling the king of Meltokio's throne for finery. Odd to say the least. But, she supposed, if anyone in the village deserved such an honor, it was he.

Swallowing through a rapidly tightening throat and taking a deep breath, she continued her searching gaze. His hips and chest were more slender than she remembered. A slit down the front of his kimono left much of his chest bared, and it appeared strong and tight, not sagging with age.

"Look at me," he encouraged.

She did, and she screamed.

Her eyes were locked not with her grandpa's but with the blazing blue orbs of Mithos Yggdrasill. She opened her mouth to threaten him, to demand what he had done with Grandpa, but the words died in her throat. Her eyes darted across the crowd. They were all smiling—all of them. Even those she knew for a fact hated her had face-splitting grins plastered on. _What's wrong with you people!_

Yggdrasill beckoned for her to approach.

She shook her head, tears forming, and backed away until she bumped into some­thing. Red gloved-hands squeezed her shoulders, and a mouth pressed close to her ear, taking her lobe in a quick nibble that thrilled and terrified her.

"Go to him," Lloyd said.

_No!_

"Come," Yggdrasill said.

_No!_

She tried to flee, but the crowd pressed in. She kicked, punched, scratched, and bit, but to no avail. The crowd thrust her forward, closer and closer to the smug countenance of her enemy. Lloyd scooped her up and deposited her onto the lap of Yggdrasill, who threaded arms around her waist. The eye contact he made with her she could not break. He leaned close. Lloyd's hand on her back pushed her closer. Yggdrasill opened his mouth and said,

"You know, you look so much like your mother."

■□■□■

Sheena awoke with a queasy stomach and a weight on her chest. Literally. Lloyd's head still rested where she had placed it. She stroked his brow, the pressure of flesh beneath her fingertips assuring her that she was indeed awake and back in the real world with the real Lloyd. He would never treat her as he had in her dream. _Do you hear me, Mithos? He wouldn't!_

Late afternoon had darkened into a moonless night while she held her lover close. Holding him had quelled her fears for a time, as if by force of will alone she could ward off the threat of death's cold hand stretched out against him—a threat of which he remained unaware. But, now that Sheena was fully conscious, Raine's dire warnings constricted her heart like a basilisk, mocking her more cruelly than the voice of Mithos ever had.

A yawn curled her lip and drew the attention of the other patients. Numbered among them, to her chagrin, were several ninjas, who ducked their heads when she looked their way. _Like they're witnessing a scandal._ Her cheeks reddened. Sharing a tent with Lloyd was nothing to be embarrassed about. There was barely a fifty mile stretch of land anywhere on the reunited world that did not bear scars from their tent pegs. But those camping trips had been secluded and private. The medical tent was much larger than those two-mans they shared and far more public a place. Ah, but therein lay the problem. A thousand whispered suggestions about the "shameful things those two did in private" could never be as potent as one sighted indiscretion. Now that Lloyd and she had confessed their feelings to one another and to the public, they would have to be vigilant to avoid the barest hint of impropriety.

Couples who had declared themselves were watched like prey. That's why Mizuho had developed the daihyo system in the first place. In earlier times, daihyos had served as attachés to the council, reporting like moral vigilance officers the most intimate details of the relationships they oversaw. Times had changed, rules gone lax, and daihyos become more often a means of personal accountability. Mizuhoan custom, though, still required them. Despite declaring their intentions in no uncertain terms—

_**I have sworn a sacred oath to do whatever I can to make you happy. What will make you happy?**_

_**Being with you as long as we live.**_

_**Then you will be.**_

—Lloyd and Sheena were not yet recognized as an official couple because they had yet to have their first meeting with their daihyos. And it would be some time before they did. Lloyd's daihyo was available: Zelos sat eyeing them from a few bunks over, smiling and wiggling his fingers in a playful wave. She acknowledged him with a nod. But her daihyo, Raine, had left earlier in the day, leading a squad on a mission to research Lloyd's special case of Angel Toxicosis and gather the components for a cure that might not even work.

Sheena ran a hand through Lloyd's hair, seeking comfort rather than offering it. These stolen touches were taboo enough when she was only a normal citizen of Mizuho. Since she had become its chief and caretaker of its traditions, they would have to stop all together. It wouldn't be easy. The near kiss that had almost ended their rela­tionship before it began would have caused a proper Mizuhoan woman to slap Lloyd for his audacity. Sheena, though, had been annoyed that they were interrupted. She had not known until that moment just how much she needed to feel his lips upon hers.

Growing up, she had always lacked for physical affection, Grandpa not being one for such displays. Sheena sensed that he endured her hugs rather than enjoyed them. And she could count on one hand the hugs she had received since he went into his coma. One of the villagers she'd grown up with had been afflicted with a strange disorder; he would panic unless he had physical contact every few hours. To others he was an object of pity—he'd never be a true ninja; to Sheena he was a kindred spirit. Well into adulthood, the heart of a frightened little girl inside her still cried out, "Notice me, love me. For God's sake, touch me. You don't have to mean it. Just touch me!" But even the panicky child refused her affection. Once she had orchestrated it so that she was the only person around when he'd come to the end of one of his cycles. When his breathing became shallow and he'd gotten that look in his eyes, she'd stepped forward. Instead of jumping into her open arms, he'd wailed loudly until an adult stepped in to scoop him up into a big bear hug. The stern reprimanding she'd received ensured Sheena had never again tried such a thing.

So when she found her soul mate, she unleashed on him all her years of repressed physical and emotional need. Those quick kisses and stolen embraces were not the flirtatious gestures she passed them off as—they were desperation commingled with joy. It took all her restraint not to throw herself at him. (Heh. Come to think of it, she had thrown herself at him a time or two.) Her need plagued even her dreams. She had never hugged Lloyd or taken his hand after Grandpa awoke—she had still been far too shy—but her dreams seemed intent on rewriting her memories. Their first meaningful physical contact had not occurred until Lloyd rescued her at Derris-Kharlan. And that had been spurred on by the joy of reunion. After that, they were months into their Exsphere hunting journey before even accidental touches stopped causing her to blush. Now she couldn't keep her hands off him.

She needed to talk to him about this. She owed it to him, but it was so embarrassing. _Would you understand, love?_

Sheena's head jerked up as a roar destroyed the night calm. Zelos was out the door in a flash despite his limp. Sheena soon followed, as did Lloyd, despite her best efforts not to wake him. She gave him a questioning look when he withdrew the Vorpal Blade from its scabbard but left Flamberge where it lay atop a pile of his luggage. He shrugged and motioned for her to hurry.

Outside a dragon roared its defiance as ropes anchored by Mizuho's best pulled it ever closer to the ground. Its two riders lay dead in the grass, kunai planted in their necks like grave markers. When the dragon had been nearly grounded, Kotetsu blades hewed at its hide, sending scales and jagged shards of broken blades flying.

Sheena started forward to help, but a hand clamped onto her shoulder.

It was Washi, the council member whose younger children now traveled with Raine. Most of his smile was blocked by his prominent nose. "Watch what your people can do, Chief."

The dragon reared, flapping its mighty wings in a desperate bid to escape. It almost succeeded with a great tug that loosed the grips several ninjas had on their ropes. But an enterprising ninja drafted Zelos into a quick plan. The Chosen of Mana shook his head, muttered something like, "Are you crazy?" then nodded, laughing. Hooking his arms under the ninja's, he flew him toward the thrashing dragon and deposited him on its back. From there, the ninja drove his broken blade through the webby flesh of the dragon's wing, tearing it like sailcloth from its mooring and permanently grounding the beast. In no time at all, the others dispatched it.

"They're magnificent," Sheena said.

"Should be." Washi puffed out his chest. "I trained this squad myself."

The squad leader, he whose stroke of genius had brought the dragon down, approached and bowed low before Sheena, offering the beast's saddle bags. Inside were 1,300 gald and a flare cape. Accepting a suitable percentage for the coffers of Mizuho, she divided the rest among the squad and gave the cape to the leader. With a grin and a flourish, he spread it across his back.

"Fukuro!' Washi snapped.

Fukuro bowed low and offered his apologies.

"My eldest son," Washi explained, "has always had a problem with pride."

Sheena smiled graciously. _Gee, I wonder where he learned it._

The dragon's roar had attracted quite the crowd, and Sheena strode into the middle of it. In her most official sounding voice, she called out, "I want this camp broken down in half an hour. Eventually, someone's going to come looking for these two..." She indi­cated the pair of dragon riders. "...and I don't want to be here when they arrive. You three, see about disposing of these bodies. The dragon's too big to bury, but make it as inconspicuous as possible. You two, gather up the broken weapons." She knelt beside the riders intending to salvage the kunai, but they were already gone. Good. Nothing of Mizuho must remain to mark their graves. The village's ties with Meltokio might be shaky, but there was no need to sever them just yet.

■□■□■

**Note: **In terms of presentation, book three will be an amalgam of the styles of the first two books. The narrative will be more straightforward with fewer jumps in time but just as many jumps in locale. The chapters will be shorter, at least initially, averaging 2500-3,000 words to facilitate faster updates. Eight chapters are planned, paying homage to the Ogdoad legend as discussed in chapter 14. As things heat up, don't be surprised to see another 8,000 word-er slip in.

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**Last Modified:** 26 October 2006


	19. Ogdoad Part 2: Ahaellum's Awakening

NAMCO Tales Studio Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 19: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental Part 2: Ahaellum's Awakening  
_**

_...I'm back, dear Sheena. Sorry I was out. I had to make the rounds. Did you miss me?..._

_...Busy, eh? Ah, yes, the dragon. That Fukuro is quite impressive. And handsome too..._

_...Don't be like that. I know you're with Lloyd—and I approve, really I do. It was only an observation. But you have to wonder: Was it my observation or yours?..._

_...Yes, yes, you love Lloyd. You can appreciate another man's appearance without being unfaithful. By the way, did you like the dream? I wanted to leave you a gift, a reminder that I'll always be here for you..._

_...Don't bother thanking me. It was no trouble. And you do look like her—your mother, I mean. I didn't notice at first. You mortals all look alike to me, you see. You don't believe I knew her, do you? How shall I prove it? Shall I tell you her name? Public or secret?... _

_...Sheena, oh Sheeeeeenaaaa, say something... _

_...Oh, come now,_ that _word is unbecoming for a lady. _

■□■□■

Nowadays Raine seldom wasted much thought on her appearance. Another time, another place, it had been on her mind constantly because _he _had been on her mind constantly. But she rarely thought of him anymore, just kept his memory tucked secretly and pleasantly away to be brought out whenever she felt especially lonely. The time she would have spent worrying that her thighs were perhaps a tad too thick or the bump on her nose a trifle too noticeable, she invested into worthier pursuits. It was odd, then, for her to be staring so intently at her reflection in the Elemental Cargo's window silently grousing over how horrible the throbbing vein in her forehead would look in a few hundred years when she reached middle age. She should buy a good moisturizer once this trip ended. And it couldn't end quickly enough. The vein throbbed harder when the ninja sitting in the co-pilot's seat growled, "I am not a child, Karasu."

From the pilot's seat, Karasu said, "Then stop acting like one," or something to that effect. Raine tried not to pay attention, but ignoring these two was getting more difficult by the minute. She envied Regal, the fourth member of her squad, for the ease with which he had fallen asleep. Every time her eyes were about to close, a wave would slosh against the side of the boat, and she would leap out of her seat with a terror-stricken yelp as if the ocean were about to swallow her alive. Clutching to her chest the stone Sheena had given her for luck, she would mumble, "To prevent accidents at sea, to prevent accidents at sea, to prevent accidents at sea," until she had calmed herself. After the fourth such episode, she had given up on sleep in favor of mental exercises to pass the time. Over the past hour she had recited multiplication tables from two to thirteen, reviewed vital statistics of the monsters they were likely to face in Latheon Gorge, and tried to peek behind that little door in her head beyond which resided her next spell. She was only a few casts away from a big one, but, despite her coaxing, the door remained firmly shut, clucking at her, if a door could cluck, like a disappointed schoolmarm—Hey! That simile hit too close to home.

"I am not _acting_ like a child."

Raine exhaled through clenched teeth. She hadn't dealt with behavior this bad since her teaching days. Even Lloyd had never been this bad, except perhaps when he fought with that older boy...Jerry, wasn't it? You could never tell if those two hated one another or were best friends. Probably both on alternating days—friends on Mondays and Wednesdays, enemies on Tuesdays and Thursdays, draw straws on Fridays. But, as Taka and Karasu were so aptly illustrating, no one fought like siblings. They always knew which of your buttons to push. One book of wisdom put it, "Brothers reunited before dawn will argue before dusk." That's why Raine always seated siblings on opposite sides of her classroom and why she had decided on counseling Sheena not to send siblings on the same missions in the future. At least she and Genis had never had this sort of relationship. The kid adored her.

"You're certainly not acting like an adult," Karasu said.

Raine turned to Regal. She expected to find him asleep, but his eyes were wide open staring at her.

"Say something to them," she said.

"Such as?"

"'Be quiet.' 'Both of you act your ages.' Something punchy and inspirational."

Regal only smiled.

And the smile calmed Raine. "Do you have any siblings?" she said.

"Only cousins, and they did not visit often. I am ill-equipped to deal with this."

"Well, treat them like employees then. Manage them."

"Of course. Shall I dock their pay or threaten to fire them?"

"Wipe off the grin," she said, "You aren't that funny."

Truth be told, it was not the ninjas' irritating behavior or even that they were traveling on water (shudder) that soured her on this trip. The ninjas would come in handy when the squad reached the Gorge where they would seek the cure components, and, so long as she looked straight ahead while disembarking, the water would not be all that bad. No, what bothered her was how long the trip was taking without rheiards. Had she and Regal elected to travel alone, they could have managed with one of the wondrous flying machines. But a four-man squad required two, and, with only three working rheiards at the disposal of the entire group, taking two was out of the question. So they had taken none and traveled by Elemental Cargo. Instead of cutting across the continents, they had to navigate around, which added hours to the trip. And hours more once they reached a safe port after which they would have to hack their way through overgrown paths teeming with hostile flora and fauna. On the positive side, if her thighs were a bit...fluffy...the hiking would tone them right up.

"Just because Father and Fukuro aren't here, it doesn't mean you're in charge!" Taka gasped and pressed both hands over her mouth. "Oh, Karasu, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Karasu said, "We should be approaching our port."

"I really am sorry."

"We'll be docking soon. Give me the sonar readout."

"But—"

"Fine, I'll check it myself."

"No, we're three fathoms above the seabed."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Incidentally, Raine was granted her wish and then some; the rest of the trip passed in stony silence.

■□■□■

"I trust your quarters are to your liking. I'm told your kind is quite fond of stone."

The king of Meltokio, Dirk noted, never made eye contact when he spoke, not with his guards, nor with his niece Kate, nor especially with a prisoner such as Dirk. Probably not with his daughter Hilda either, though Dirk had not seen them together long enough to be certain. Whenever the dwarf was brought into the throne room for an interrogation, the princess was hustled out despite her pleas of "But, Daddy, I've only ever seen them in picture books." Just as well. Dirk could imagine her suddenly appearing with a leash and food bowl, intent on teaching him tricks.

The lack of eye contact bothered him. He had always taught Lloyd that looking a man square in the eye told him you would deal honestly with him. Humans often repeated the teaching, but it held special significance for his people. Dwarven eyes were set farther back in the head than those of the other species in the restored world, making eye contact a deliberate act and insincerity difficult to spot. Look a dwarf in the eye for a half minute. If he can hold your gaze, he's quoting you a fair price. Some said the extra skin around dwarven eyes served as a natural protection against the flying sparks inherent in forge work. And indeed, Dirk's cheeks were stained with scorch marks, but never had a spark touched his eye.

"Aye," he said, "if it be alive. The stone in your dungeon is long dead."

"You speak of living stone, and still you refuse to acknowledge your true nature."

Dirk shook his head. Not this again. "Pulverizing stone to make concrete kills the stone. I don't have to be anything other than a dwarf to recognize that. And I'm not."

"Kate says you are, and she is seldom wrong."

"She's wrong about this," Dirk said. "Look, Your Highness, I'm a dwarf. My father before me was a dwarf and his before him. If you're looking for a stone mason or a metal smith you've found him (not that I'm offering my services, mind you), but I'm not this other thing—"

"Ahaellum," the king said.

"I'm not."

"You are, and I will prove it." The king stood and clapped his hands. "Summoner, come forth."

"Sheena!" Was it possible? Dirk strained against the chains binding his wrists, ready to lay down his life to protect her and wishing for the first time that the king's accusa­tions were true. He could use the power they promised.

Into the room strode a tall man with hair so pale it reflected the light. He wore maroon plate armor and a billowing cape and carried no weapons so far as could be seen. The four shield-bearers flanking him, though, each carried a gladius. Those two-foot long swords, designed for quick, powerful thrusting, were light enough not to interfere with their shield-work. Good thing too. Their rectangular shields were nearly as tall as they were. They must have been heavy, but not a one of the men strained under the burden. It helped that their armor was of leather, not weightier metal.

"Wrong summoner," the king said. "This one understands the meaning of loyalty."

The quintet approached the throne, marching in perfect lockstep. Dirk began edging backward, allowing them to take up the space in front of the throne where he stood. But he did not move fast enough. Without breaking stride, one of the lead shield-bearers slammed his shield into the dwarf's stocky frame and sent him tumbling backwards. "Rise, dwarf," he said. "You're in the presence of the king."

The armored man managed an awkward bow and offered his everlasting loyalty as a greeting.

The king's command was simple: "Call the summon spirit of earth to destroy this dwarf."

Before Dirk could get his bearings, the quintet went to work. The shield-bearers encircled the summoner, but drew not their weapons. To do so in the throne room assured a death sentence. The summoner clasped his hands prayerfully before his chest, and, as a dull brown circle of light formed beneath him, intoned, "I call upon the servant of Mother Earth. Gnome!" As soon as the words were delivered, he collapsed to the floor, panting.

Illusions heralded Gnome's arrival. Great mounds of earth spewed from a hole in the ground, and discordant rumbles rent the air, imitating tectonic shifts. Had those in the throne room been able to stare past the beastliest of summon spirits, they would have seen nothing amiss. The marble floor was untouched, and the ringing in their ears was the only evidence of Gnome's theatrics. But they could not stare past him. He was ruddy and brown, and resembled a human only vaguely. Anger flared in his eyes.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

The summoner began to speak, but the king interrupted. "Kill the dwarf."

"I don't take orders from you," Gnome said, hands on his hips.

"Obey the king," the summoner said.

"Fine, fine," Gnome said. Then, turning to Dirk, he continued, "Sorry about this, old-timer. I can smell the soil beneath your fingernails and sense you love the earth as much as I do. But rules are rules. This guy beat me in combat, and now I have to do what he says." Gnome snatched a shovel from nowhere, and, before Dirk could consider moving, the spirit was upon him. The shovel descended like an executioner's axe, but in mid-air it stopped. "Lord Ahaellum?" he said.

"Spirit," the summoner said, "do as the king commands."

Gnome said, "I can't."

"Do as _I_ command!"

Gnome dropped his shovel, and it dissolved into fine sand and blew away before it could touch the ground. "How can I kill the guy who created me?"

The king laughed and, with a wave, dismissed the spirit and the summoner's squad. He turned toward the dwarf; this time he made eye contact. "Kate agrees with me. Gnome agrees with me. Can there be any doubt? You are Ahaellum, or at least a part of him."

Dirk shook his head.

The king exhaled. "Guards, take this stubborn creature to the Lab. See what Kate can do with him. And send out a squadron. I want that other dwarf brought in."

■□■□■

After Raine called the Elemental Cargo back into her Wing pack, a shame-faced Taka called her to the side. Leaving the males alone to set up camp, they walked together for a ways. They spoke little and only about their mission, and Raine sensed they were only filling time. The real conversation would not begin until they reached the destination Taka had in mind.

They halted atop a bluff that overlooked their campsite. Taka kneeled beside a stone, and Raine leaned against her staff, surveying the camp. A pair of tents was already set up and a fire built, evidenced by the thin trail of smoke rising high. A gust of wind ruffled her hair and brought with it the smells of Regal's cooking. Raine's mouth watered at the prospect of roasted fish. When she turned to suggest that they hurry back for supper, she found Taka prostrate on the ground.

She dropped to her knees beside the girl and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Dear, what is it? Are you ill?"

Taka raised her head. "I have brought shame upon myself and my family. I beg your forgiveness."

Raine balked. "It-it's all right. You were behaving poorly, but don't worry about it."

"I feel I must explain." She paused, waiting for permission to continue.

Raine's stomach rumbled, but she nodded.

"Our father has always encouraged competition among his children," Taka said. "He wants us to excel, you understand. Karasu believes he does not measure up to our older brother. Fukuro is everything he wants to be but isn't. He's a stronger warrior, a better tactician, and, when Father retires, it goes without saying that Fukuro will take his place on the Council. And neither he nor Father will let him forget it." A strand of hair fell over her eye. "Karasu likes to take charge whenever he and I are together. It's the only time he has any standing in our family because I'm the only one weaker than he. I used to let him, but, now that I've been on a mission of my own, Mizuho recognizes me as an adult. Chief Sheena publicly praised me today. I thought Karasu would be happy for me, but he...I know this is stupid."

Raine brushed away the errant strand of hair and smiled at the girl. "No, it isn't. No one likes living in someone else's shadow, especially a family member's. You're forgiven." She stood and pulled Taka up with her. "Now, come on, let's head back to camp. I'm starving."

■□■□■

_Well, at least it's not a cell._ Dirk sat chained in a corner of the Elemental Research Lab basement, strumming his fingers on a wooden table.

When the guards brought him in, his head had still been reeling at the implication of Gnome's words. **_How can I kill the guy who created me?_** Dirk had not always had the best memory. He often joked that this was a boon to his shadier clients. _Need a forgery of an expensive religious artifact? Sure. Forget your identity? Already have._ But, slip­shod memory or no, he would have remembered creating a living being, especially one thousands of years older than he. Did summon spirits even have creators? Hadn't they always existed?

_Gnome is different_, the thought came to him, _Unique._

No. It must have been an elaborate ruse. The summoner had called Gnome earlier and instructed him to lie. That was it. Gnome said he had to do whatever his summoner asked, hadn't he?

"But why trick me?" Dirk mumbled. Did they want Lloyd's location? They wouldn't get it. Zelos and the others were probably dead, and Dirk had already determined he would die before helping the king or anyone else endanger his son. The king must know that. Besides, this was all too elaborate to be an exercise in intelligence gathering.

"Good evening, Dirk," came a voice from the top of the stairs.

The dwarf stood and bowed. "Hello, lass."

Kate set down the clipboard she carried beside a pile of manuscripts and cleaned her glasses. "What shall it be tonight?" she said, "science or history, experimentation or translation?"

"If I'm to be the subject of the experiments," Dirk said, "I'd suggest translation."

"I thought you might," she said, pulling up a stool. "Normally I'd do my translating in Daddy's—I mean, the pope's office. You've met him, haven't you? Your cells were so close."

Indeed Dirk had, and the way the pope stared at him, like a man eyeing his last chance for glory, unnerved him.

"The king lets him out whenever he's working on the translation," Kate said, "but tonight he's attending a banquet, so I figured I'd do my translating here."

Kate tore open a package and emptied its powdery contents, along with two spoon­fuls of water, into a tiny black jar, which she capped and shook. She dipped a nib pen into her freshly made ink and took a few test strokes on scratch paper before nodding in satisfaction and taking up good parchment. Dirk had seen ink mixed plenty of times, but only by stubborn villagers who considered store-bought goods inherently inferior to anything homemade. He hadn't expected to find anyone in the city doing it. This Kate was a quirky young thing.

"Soon," Kate continued, "he may gain his freedom out right. I know how awful this sounds, but I'd like to thank you. Without your capture Daddy would have no hope."

Forgive me, lass," Dirk said, "but your father's freedom wasn't worth the lives of four good people."

"What do you mean?"

"Zelos the Chosen and three others died when I was captured, and a village was burned to the ground, leaving a good many homeless."

"The Chosen isn't dead." Kate shook her head. "The king has had patrols looking for him and his comrades for over a week."

"Not dead," Dirk whispered.

"You speak too freely, Princess," said a voice Dirk thought he recognized. The maroon armor confirmed it. The summoner now wore only his breastplate, leaving him free to descend the stairs without the difficulty of full body armor.

Kate sighed. "Don't call me that, Conrad."

"You're as beautiful as a princess."

"Oh, please," Kate mumbled. From a drawer she retrieved a syringe and vial. "Here for your injection?"

"Again with that free mouth," Conrad said, but he was already rolling up his sleeve. He commandeered Kate's stool and positioned it between her and the dwarf.

Tapping on his arm raised a vein into which Kate injected the blood red contents of the syringe. As she dabbed at the injection point and ran her fingers over the track marks scarring his arm, she said, "Any word on Jared?"

Conrad gave a ragged sigh. "Forget about him. Let's talk about us."

"Please."

"One of our patrols found his squad slaughtered near Iselia."

The shattering of glass concealed her cry; she had dropped the syringe.

"But he wasn't with them." Conrad said, patting her arm. "There was a trail of blood leading toward the forest. He could be on his way back right now."

"Did they follow the trail?"

He shrugged. "I didn't ask. Look, I'll take you to see one of the guys who found them."

She nodded.

"After dinner?" he said, offering his arm.

She grumbled an agreement and accompanied Conrad to the foot of the stairs. Then she stopped and turned to the dwarf. "It seems we'll have to postpone our evening, Dirk. Feel free to read through my translations. You might find some of them interesting."

The pages were organized into two folders. Flipping through the first, marked "Ogdoad: The Mythology of Early Mizraim," Dirk found a series of odd names (Kuk, Kauket, Amaunet...) and something about frogs and snakes and lotus flowers. "Must be a gardening text," he mumbled, and set it aside. The second folder produced a different response. By the time Kate returned the next morning, Dirk had read the complete text of "Ahaellum's Awakening: The Tale of the Earth Elemental," including the parts Kate had not yet translated.

■□■□■

**Last Modified:** 26 October 2006


	20. Ogdoad Part 3: Odaiji ni

**Note:** In early July, I purchased the first two seasons of The Pretender on DVD along with Prince of Persia 3 for the Gamecube. One glorious month later, I realize I haven't updated for a while. My bad, yo.

By the way, would you guys mind if I made this fic a crossover with the 90s Spiderman animated series and Sliders?

Just checking.

I renamed the previous two chapters. The naming system I had chosen was annoying the heck out of me. Anyone think I should subtitle the Mizuho Mishap chapters?

■□■□■

NAMCO Tales Studio Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 20: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental Part 3: Odaiji ni_**

Sheena laughed when Lloyd said he loved her too. Immediately she apologized and assured him thrice over that she returned his love and always would. But, as she explained, "odaiji ni" meant "take care," not "I love you" as he had assumed. She could not fault him his confusion, though, considering the way she had held both his hands in hers and gazed deeply into his eyes while speaking.

Lloyd smacked himself. "'Ai shiteru' is 'I love you.' Sorry. I should've remembered."

"It's my fault for not translating." She caressed his knuckle with the tip of her thumb. "And you never have to apologize for saying you love me, okay?"

"Heh. Got it."

The group had risen early after a night march that lasted into the wee hours. When they reached their new campsite at the edge of a sparse grove, a few paused to erect tents, but most gave in to weariness and slept under the stars. The night had been hot enough for it, or perhaps it just seemed that way with remembered dragon's breath tickling the backs of their necks. The Council had insisted that Sheena's tent be pitched before any others—including the medical tent—but they needn't have made a pro­nouncement. No Mizuhoan would think of attending to his own needs before his chief's. Though Sheena would have offered the same service had Grandpa still been chief, accepting it herself felt unnatural.

"Dad and I will be fine," Lloyd said. "We'll probably be back before you even leave." He glanced over his shoulder at the edge of the grove where Kratos waited for him.

"I doubt it, love. My squad is heading out after our strategy session. Shouldn't be more than an hour. But give Dirk a kiss for me."

Lloyd made a face.

Sheena smirked. "Fine, give him a gruff, manly handshake for me."

Around her neck, Sheena wore a leather thong from which hung a pouch. When she pulled Lloyd into a quick hug, she smashed it against his chest.

"What's this?" he said.

"Just a memento," she said. "Better hurry. Your dad's waiting."

"All right. Udo Jin-e, Sheena."

She smiled. "Odaiji ni, Lloyd."

As soon as Lloyd was out of sight, Sheena opened the pouch and, with a sigh, removed the wooden wish tag it held. She should have completed the ritual already, broken the tag and cast its halves into the nearest river. Sentiment did not bid her keep it, nor was it much to look upon (Lloyd was the craftsman, not she). But she could not bring herself to dispose of it. Not yet. Not until she was sure.

And she still had time. The traditions were vague on how long she had before the tag became a bad luck charm. Orochi might know. Or Grandpa. Either could offer an educated guess, and Orochi would probably snatch it away and snap it in half for her. He would not be without justification. The fates of those who held on to their tags in the stories were nightmarish in intensity. At least they were for any other Mizuhoan. Sheena had nightmares of a different sort. **_...You're with Lloyd—and I approve..._** Her taste in boyfriends pleased her greatest enemy. How comforting. Try as she might, she could not get those words out of her head.

_**...I approve...**_

_Who the hell asked you?_

She ran a finger over Lloyd's name etched into the tag. "I love you," she whispered. _But what if we're being manipulated? What if Mithos wants us together for some sinister purpose? Wouldn't it be selfish to—?_

_Arrgh! Listen to yourself. A week ago you couldn't decide whether it were really Mithos in your head or the voice of your own self-doubt. Now you're accusing him of plotting from beyond the grave. Insanity!_

Wasn't it?

_Mithos,_ she ventured, _are you there?_

Nothing.

She stowed the tag in its pouch and walked slowly back to camp. Once again she tried to mask her fear with cheerfulness. But her people would not be fooled so easily as had Lloyd. She could not slip into Mizuhoan to hide from them when doubt crept into her voice, nor could she use that language with its wondrous shades of meaning to at once speak the truth and obscure it. "Odaiji ni" she had chosen over "ogenki de." Both meant "take care," but the former you said to a sick person1. It was as near as she could come to telling Lloyd about Raine's concerns without bursting into tears.

Upon reaching camp, she found that most of the remaining tents had been pitched. When she picked up tools to help with one of the last few, she was waved off by a ninja whose manner said, "The chief mustn't humble herself so." She started to protest, but the ninja bowed low and explained that Sheena's squad had already assembled in her tent and only awaited her arrival to begin their meeting. With a smile and an expression of gratitude, she turned toward her tent, pleased at the squad's promptness and just a little nervous about leading them into battle.

■□■□■

**Nine days ago**

_Breathe. Take control. Suppress the rage. You are a man, not a monster. See your­self as a man, and you will be a man. Endure it a little longer. They'll leave soon. They have to._

The mana was a fire, and Jared was its fuel. It spread out of control through his body as if a phalanx were slashing at his insides with glowing hot forge-fresh blades. In his mind's eye, he could see them, and they looked like Ogdoad troops—the king's elite. A score of axemen hewed at his stomach, opening lesions and spilling out murky liquid and chunks of half-digested pork and carrots. The liquid evaporated, and the food caught fire upon exposure to his boiling insides. Swordsmen swarmed over his ribcage and pierced again and again the tender organs therein. Whenever a blast of air from a deflating lung sent one flying away, he continued hacking wherever he landed.

The clang of armor drew his attention upward. Hanging from his uppermost rib were two summoners—Conrad and the only other one to have returned to Meltokio by the time Jared left. Each called forth the spirit of his pact—Conrad, Gnome and the other, Efreet. At their summoners' behest, Gnome held aloft a cyclone of sand, which the blast furnace of Efreet's breath crystallized into a javelin of hard glass. So close were they to the summon spirit of fire that many of the swordsmen still hacking at Jared's lungs were burned alive. Their black husks fell away, breaking into cinders when they struck bone or organ. Conrad seemed neither to notice nor to care. "Pierce his heart!" he screamed, "pierce his heart!"

Without hesitation, the summon spirits obeyed and drove the javelin home where it shattered, peppering his heart's innards with glass splinters.

For the moment, Jared was thankful that Colette had nicked a vocal cord when she impaled his throat. It meant that scream of pain he'd just let loose came out as but a croak. The men on the open field probably hadn't heard.

Instinct demanded he run from the woods and kill them, but he couldn't run. Thanks to the little pink-haired girl severing the tendon above his right heel, he could only crawl. He might kill one or two, but he was weak and wounded. They would finish him off. Besides, he didn't want to kill them. They were his allies, Ogdoad rejects like him. The monster wanted their blood, not he.

He tested his left foot. The tendon was sliced but not severed, thanks perhaps to the pink-hair's inexperience with the sword. If he could treat it, he just might save it. But all his squad's medical supplies were out in the open, while he remained hidden in a thicket, cringing like a dog that had displeased its master. So panicked and pain-maddened was he when he'd detected rheiards approaching in the distance that immediate self-preservation had been his only goal. He had crawled with all his might, giving no thought to his gear, and flung himself into the thicket just before the first rheiard set down. Nor had he thought to hide his trail. Broken branches near the ground bore testament to his recent movement as did the trail of blood evident should anyone bother to look down.

Jared watched them with his unblinking eye. They were talking, but he couldn't make out their words. Hearing was difficult for an Exbelua.

_Gahh!_ If the men would just wrap up their survey and rejoin the wave of troops bound for Iselia, Jared could treat himself and he would be fine.

His throat wound was oozing again. Since his transformation, his arms were too heavy to lift, and he could not stanch the bleeding. Flies were beginning to gather. He could feel their bites on the sensitive flesh around the wound as they gorged them­selves on his blood. It was the only sensitive flesh he still had; the rest was hard as leather.

He tried once more the calming exercise Kate had taught him. "Ignore the monster within," she had said. "Drown him out. If he roars, roar louder." Conrad called it "mind-over-matter, hocus-pocus, voodoo shit" (never where Kate could hear him, of course). Maybe it was all a bunch of shit, but Jared didn't care. It helped him, even in ordinary life. It couldn't hurt to try it here.

_Breathe. Take control. Suppress the rage. You are a man, not a monster. See your­self as a man, and you will be a man... _

On the field, a soldier rifled through the bags of the dead, and Jared had to check his anger when the man reached _his_ bag. Not only had the field now been stripped of medical supplies, and his one shot to heal himself gone up in smoke, but the few personal effects he'd brought along were now lining the pockets of a man he'd never see again. _Damn it all!_

He was seized with a sudden urge to reveal himself on the slim chance that he would be treated with mercy. He suppressed the urge immediately. He knew better. Holders of crestless Exspheres were banned from Ogdoad ranks; consequently, none of the troops—not even the one Jared had seen twice circle the battlefield counting bodies—would believe he was one of them. A low growl rumbled in his throat. So much for the calming exercise.

Pressure spiked behind his eye such that he feared it would pop out. Reflexively he tried to blink, but he had no eyelid in this form. Pain always accompanied the transfor­mation, but it was more intense this time. _Third time's the charm, they always say._ Twice before, he had transformed—once to train and once to battle. He had been a shock troop then, one of many sent secretly to back the radical Martellite attack on the Chosen's group. More than once Professor Raine nearly succeeded in reversing his transformation, but while others fled from her "Boltzman bolts," he had confronted her head-on. Using his fellow Exbeluas as inhuman shields, he'd nearly succeeded in sepa­rating her from her staff. And he would have if only that female ninja hadn't interfered.

After Jared's return, it took Kate three weeks to speak to him, and five weeks to speak kindly to him. He had assumed she was ashamed of his failure. Like Dad would've been. The moment he learned the truth was seared into his memory—the way her lip trembled, the way the glasses slid onto the tip of her nose and gave him an unobstructed view of her eyes—it was the first time he'd ever seen a woman cry over him.

"Do you want what happened to Clara to happen to you? Let me remove that Exsphere!"

Had he thought his answer through, he just might have changed it—so great was her fervor. But he spoke by rote. "You know I can't."

"Is power that important to you?"

She stormed off when he did not answer.

He wondered how lengthy a silent treatment he'd face when he made it back this time.

If he made it back.

The thought sobered him, and just in time. For he soon realized that his bag was not all he had left on the field. Reflected sunlight confirmed it: He'd left his Exsphere. Some­one else also noticed.

_No! _To the scavenger, the jewel meant nothing, but it was Jared's only chance to regain his human form. His mind screamed at the man, but to no avail. He was bending down, hand outstretched. Jared had to stop him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he pounded his fist into the ground; the ground shook as if reeling from a giant's footstep. And for the first time in several hours he clearly heard a sound from the field, as swords leapt from their scabbards into the hands of men already eager for combat.

■□■□■

**Present Day**

Sheena took a final breath and strode through the door of her tent. She took her seat at the center of the U-shaped breakfast table but ignored the expertly prepared selec­tion before her. A year's travel away from home had caused her to forget how some of her favorite Mizuhoan dishes tasted, but the exquisite smells wafting her way brought those memories back and made her mouth water. She shook her head. No time for that now. She accepted a cup of tea, and plowed on to the matter at hand, protocol be damned.

"Everyone, you may eat as I speak. Our task is urgent, and we must not allow any delays."

As she expected, no one reached for his utensils.

"It is time I told you," she continued, "why, of the pacts I made during the World Regeneration Journey, I have lost all but two."

■□■□■

**1 **Source: Worldvillage dot org slash gy slash gyold slash 12002 dot html

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**Last Modified:** 06 October 2006


	21. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 1

Okay it's 6AM here on the east coast. I've got a great deal of homework and a mess of grocery shopping to do, not to mention a grad seminar in ten hours. And I haven't yet been to sleep. I spell-checked this puppy, but haven't run it through Ultra-Hal (the only way to edit). Let me know if you find any singicifant erorrs, and I'll fix 'em right up!

**Note:** Edited at 9:10 PM 12 Sept 2006 (to expand the scene, not to fix any errors).

**Note:** Edited at 5:31 PM 15 Sept 2006 - I was unhappy with the scene as first posted. I have retained the first version of the chapter and posted the second version below it. Which do you prefer?

**Note:** Edited at 6:13 PM 06 Oct 2006 - I removed the first version. The second, better version remains.

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TheMaskedReviewer and Kai-av-rani, this one's for you:

_  
Peter Parker growled in frustration; he was out of web fluid again. The chemicals he needed to whip up a fresh batch could be found under any kitchen counter, provided that kitchen counter was located in a reality similar enough to his own. Depending on how and when a particular reality diverged from his, those contents could be quite...exotic. In the world his group had just slid out of a society hyper-keen on herbal remedies had outlawed what he needed. Sure, he could have gotten them on the black market, but who had the time?_

_He often fought the urge to strangle Quinn Mallory for getting him mixed up in all this. He missed his life. It may not have been perfect—if he weren't duking it out with the animal-themed baddie of the week, he was vacillating between the two ladies in his life, the nigh unattainable Felicia Hardy and the sweet and sassy Mary Jane Watson—but it was _his_ life. What he wouldn't give to be back in his beloved New York exchanging blows and biting sarcasm with Venom or, better yet, patrolling with the alluring Black Cat, who seemed at once so familiar and so mysterious._

_Not that aimlessly traveling the multiverse had left him wholly without female companionship. He'd had liaisons with doubles of MJ and Felicia and an intriguing young beauty named Gwen Stacy. There was also Wade Wells, one of his fellow travelers. The spunky brunette was fun to be around, a true pal—but that was all. She seemed to have a major unrequited hang-up on ol' Q-ball. It sort of reminded Peter of his feelings for Felicia—only in reverse. Whereas he was the nerd crushing on the popular, beautiful girl, Wade was beauty crushing on the nerd._

_Peter's ruminations were interrupted by the sudden end of their journey through the wormhole. As agile as he was, he still landed in a heap atop one of his companions._

_"Mr. Parker, would you mind getting off of me?"_

_"Sorry, Professor," Peter said and helped the portly Prof. Arturo to his feet._

_The Sliders found themselves behind a one story building, quaintly designed, functional not aesthetic. Peter turned to ask Quinn how long they had until the timer reactivated, but he halted at the sound of Wade's scream. _

_Quinn was at her side in a moment, and Peter was reflexively reaching into his coat for his mask and gloves._

_"Bodies," Wade explained, pointing at two pairs of armored corpses. The armor was a mixture of plate and chain mail. Jagged, blood-stained spikes protruded at various points from their bodies._

Chain mail?_ Peter had thought the architecture old-fashioned, but not medieval._

_Wade began gesticulating wildly toward a window. She was also shouting something about a little boy needing their help, but Peter could barely hear her. His spider sense ripped through his mind so severely it drove him to his knees. What could be dangerous enough to provoke such a reaction? He slammed his eyes shut and, when he opened them, noticed a large blue X painted across his chest._

_He looked up. Wade was pulling at the window, and Quinn was pulling at her. "We can't help him," he was saying. "We've got only ten seconds." _

_It was a lucky stroke. The other Sliders had the same blue Xs across their chests, and Peter was getting the sneaking suspicion they had something to do with that rather large meteorite he just noticed hurtling toward the building. _

_At the push of a button, the timer breached the fabric of space and created a temporary portal to another reality. Quinn, aided by Prof. Arturo, dragged Wade away from the window, and all were sucked through the portal. _

_Struggling to his feet, Peter followed. He cast a glance through the window as he passed. More armored soldiers were advancing on the boy, who sat unmoving on the floor. They were going to kill him. _You know what you have to do,_ Uncle Ben's voice seemed to tell Peter. He nodded. _With great power, there must also come great responsibility._ Though it meant never seeing home again, Peter had to help. But he had ventured too near the wormhole, and invisible tendrils drew him in, whisked him away to another world, and left the boy to fend off the soldiers on his own._

_Well, not entirely on his own._

...Come, my friend. Let's kill these inferior beings together...

---

Sliders is copyright NBC Universal Television. Spider-Man and all related characters are copyright Marvel Entertainment Group. Used without permission

Enough of this drivel. On with the story...

■□■□■

Namco Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 21: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental Part 4: Everything you ever wanted to know about Summon Spirits but were afraid to ask_**

**_Section 1__  
_**

**Temple****of Ice**

"Good to see you again, Master Summoner."

"You too, Celsius."

A third voice: "Are we here to fight or have a tea party?"

"Ugh! Don't tell me I have to fight _him_ again."

"'Fraid so, Celsius. Yuan is strong, and he offered to help."

■□■□■

**Earlier that day**

"Right now, at this very moment, there are people who are suffering," Sheena said. "I vow to save those people."

"Chief?" Fukuro said, "Are you well?"

"Hmm? Ah, I lost myself in thought." Her teacup, which she had been absently tapping against her lower lip, she set aside. Back to business. She looked at each of the three ninjas seated around the table and frowned. Not because she doubted their abilities—she'd seen them in action and could attest that they were excellent warriors. **_You'll not find a better squad in Mizuho than my son's,_** Washi had said. Fatherly pride no doubt accompanied the statement, but Sheena could not deny its truth, nor apparently could the rest of the Council, who unanimously declared their approval.

So she had selected three from Fukuro's squad, including Fukuro himself. But she was second-guessing _that_ decision already. Key to a squad's effectiveness was its cohesion. Could they act as one, direct their individual efforts to a common goal? In the case of this squad: seamlessly. Their defense of camp last night reminded Sheena of a performance by the Meltokio Symphony Orchestra. Like flutes and horns and cellos, the scrape of blade and manriki against scale and the dragon's bellowing and straining against its bindings melded into a grotesque harmony so that, even in the sheer ugliness of death, there was a kind of beauty. Sheena told Washi the squad was magnificent, and she meant it.

But there was a problem. This orchestra already had a conductor. They knew Fukuro and could often anticipate his commands before he gave them. She had no such rapport with them, nor time to develop one in light of the urgency of their mission. (Her elevation to the chiefdom had already caused a week's delay. She could not have abandoned her people so soon after commanding them to leave their ancestral home, even if she were the only person capable of re-forging her pacts. To ease her mind, she had sent warriors to guard the temples of those spirits that still answered her calls. That she had yet to hear back from those warriors made her nervous.)

That was not why she was second-guessing herself, though. In choosing Fukuro to be on her squad, had she not, in a sense, demoted him? He didn't deserve such treatment. Still, she supposed the greater insult would have been in not asking him to take part in such an important mission. And indeed it was important—not only to combat the threat the king of Meltokio posed to the world, but also to restore the pride of Mizuho. When Sheena failed to make a pact with Volt all those years ago, in addition to the deaths of half its adult population, Mizuho suffered deep humiliation, which only worsened a decade later when a group consisting of mostly untrained warriors won pacts with _all_ the summon spirits. Now that the pacts were expired, it was only right that Mizuho re-forge them.

"Right now, at this very moment, there are people who are suffering. I vow to save those people. I validated my first pact on Sylvarant with those words. If I had spoken more shrewdly, it would still be valid. They all would. And we wouldn't be in this mess." She paused to allow the obvious question to be posed: "What do you mean?" But no one spoke. Mizuhoans stood on ceremony. They would hold their tongues until certain she had finished speaking. For Fukuro to have spoken up at all, even to voice concern, showed brashness uncommon among his people. Sheena liked it.

_...Do you now?..._

_Ignoring you._

_...Did you notice he's still wearing that cape you gave him? It sets off his eyes in such a lovely manner..._

_Shut it._

"Funny thing is, at the time, I thought I _was_ being shrewd. Or at least cautious. Assassination had gone from my primary mission to my last resort. But a last resort is still a resort. So I left my vow vague: People are suffering right now. But which people—the victims of Sylvarant's human ranches or my own people, whose fragile relations with Meltokio now rested in my hands? The vow would have allowed me to turn Undine's power against the Chosen's group—the very people who helped me gain it..."

Before her appeared Colette's face, smiling and bright until its color faded and its skin stretched taut. Dark circles discolored her eyes, and her lips twisted into a grimace as she spoke. "I love him." Sheena almost called out Colette's name but stopped herself in time to allow only a small cough to escape her throat. She sipped her tea before continuing.

"...Thank God I never had to.

"I made the same vow to all Sylvarant's summon spirits, except Luna and Aska. By then, Mizuho had allied itself with the Chosen's group, freeing me to follow my heart. So I vowed to germinate the great seed to truly regenerate _both_ worlds. It was a good vow, honorable, but too specific. Once Lloyd germinated the seed, the pact was fulfilled. Like a..." She scrambled for a suitable metaphor. _Ah, perfect!_ "Like a wish tag is broken once God answers the prayer, a pact is broken—no, fulfilled—once the conditions it was made under no longer apply. This doesn't mean the spirits have been unfaithful or the pact-maker. Actually, fulfillment is a sign of faithfulness on both sides.

"As for Undine, Efreet, and Sylph, the people who were suffering when I made those vows were no longer suffering when the worlds were reunited—at least they weren't suffering from the same things. Those pacts were fulfilled. The same rule applied to most of Tethe'alla's summon spirits. To Gnome, Celsius, and Shadow, I vowed to create a place where the two worlds need not sacrifice one another. Since there is now only one world, those pacts have been fulfilled."

She took a deep breath. Confession time.

_...Hold on. Let me get popcorn..._

"I made the pacts the way I did because I was focused completely on the crisis at hand. Yggdrasill and Cruxis were the worse threat the world ever faced—"

_...Flatterer..._

"—and the prospect of a world without them was too good to hope for. I never thought I'd live to see it. More than once, I nearly didn't."

Sheena remembered hanging on to the side of a rock face, exhausted and begging Lloyd to go rescue Colette, part of her wishing he'd leap into the chasm to save her, and her heart breaking a little when he didn't. And then falling, falling into darkness. Only to be saved by that pervert Zelos, who, to his credit, didn't even try to cop a feel.

"But if that world could exist, I believed peace would come. It would take time, but it would come. Or maybe I just needed to believe. Even when a great threat did arise, the spirits still answered my call. During a lull in the battle against the radical Martellites near Iselia, Undine explained everything to me. Because most of the pacts were fulfilled, only two of the spirits still owed me their allegiance. But most of the others agreed to answer my calls anyway—at least until another summoner secured pacts with them. Neither of us thought that likely. Believe me, if I had, I would have made it a point to re-forge the pacts months ago. Heh, Lloyd and I could have taken care of it over a weekend. We—"

_Idiot! You just implied Lloyd is a better warrior than the three of them combined. Don't trivialize this!_

"The legends tell of a time when the world was young and the spirits walked with the other races and taught them. Don't ask me why, but I got the feeling that Undine was testing me, gauging my reaction to see whether such a relationship would be possible again. So, on behalf of the world and for me personally, I thanked her. I'm closer to them than anyone else, and I never felt anything close to affection from them, not how we would define it anyway—"

_...They seemed to like me just fine..._

"—but I think my gratitude impressed her. They took Mithos's betrayal hard—"

_...Only because they liked me so much..._

"—but I get the feeling something worse happened to sever their connection with the races. I refuse to allow the king to jeopardize the renewal of that connection." She slammed her fist onto the table, and then blushed. "Eat up, we need to go."

"Chief?"

The fellow to her left had spoken. What was his name again? It started with an N. Or was that his secret name. If she addressed someone by his secret name in public...ooh, very bad. How had Grandpa kept all this information straight?

"Yes?" she said.

"You said you still have pacts with two spirits, but there are three you haven't mentioned: Maxwell, Origin, and Volt."

"Ah, of course. Forgive me...Naoki." _No reaction. Good._ "My pact with Origin remains. The actions of Genis Sage proved it. I also retain my pact with Volt. It took me ten years to get that one, and now I don't seem to be able to get rid of the guy. It's Maxwell that I've lost. And I intend to get him back. With your help I intend to get them all back."

With that she stood, and the others with her.

"We'll head to the ice temple first. I had considered making Exire our first destination, but we have no reason to believe the king's forces have located it yet."

"I'd feel better if we had a bigger force," Fukuro said.

"Me too. But the spirits will accept only four challengers at once. Besides, we only have two rheiards."

■□■□■

**Temple****of Lightning**

"Care to translate that?"

"Volt said, 'I am one who is bound to Sheena the faithful.'"

"Tell him that the terms of their pact have expired."

"You may tell him yourself. He understands our tongue; he only refuses to speak it."

"All right, the—what did he say that time?"

"He said that, though the terms have expired, he still wishes to retain his pact."

"Volt, I ask that you annul your pact with Sheena and establih a new pact with me. What's he say to that?"

"He says, 'No.'"

■□■□■

_**To be continued**_

■□■□■

**Last Modified: **26 October 2006


	22. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 2

I've rewritten the previous chapter. Changes are subtle, but I think it reads better now.

---

Namco Tales Studio Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 21: The Ogdoad and the Earth Elemental Part 4: Everything you ever wanted to know about Summon Spirits but were afraid to ask **_

_**Section 2**_

"Your first sword is not a placeholder."

"I know that!"

"Then act like it," Kratos said. "Akimbo fighters tend to lead off with a weak attack, intending to channel greater power into a follow-up blow. You must break yourself of this habit."

Lloyd growled. "I'm trying."

"Try harder. Attack me now."

Lloyd complied, and ended up flat on his back.

Kratos frowned. "How _did_ you manage to beat me at Origin's seal? More to the point, are you certain you've healed enough for this mission? We may have to fight our way out of Meltokio."

Ordinarily Kratos would not have interrupted a rescue mission—or any mission—for training, but he had to assess his son's capabilities. He was not impressed. Injuries from Lloyd's recent fight might explain his sluggishness but not his overall lack of improvement in the year since their last meeting. Also of concern—Lloyd was favoring the same arm now as he had then. Coincidence? Unlikely. His opponent might have known about Lloyd's previous injury and tactically exploited that knowledge. But this explanation failed to satisfy Kratos; for only a chronic injury would have prompted a request as intense as Lloyd's had been earlier that morning.

"Doesn't matter. We're at war." Lloyd rose and lowered Flamberge. The Vorpal Blade he pointed at Kratos's chest. "You're supposed to be teaching me to fight with one weapon."

_This isn't only about versatility, is it, my son? Why haven't you healed?_ "First I must evaluate your normal style."

Lloyd held the blade steady. "You've seen me fight before."

"Seldom with the intention of teaching you." Kratos strode forward and pressed down on the flat of Lloyd's blade. He suppressed a grin. _Stubborn boy._ "We have trained enough for today."

"I'm not tired."

_Very stubborn._ "I am, and we must conserve our strength if we're to free Dirk."

Lloyd shrugged and brought out his wings, ready to depart. Flying had never very much appealed to Lloyd; the tingling in his arm and the queasiness in his stomach took all the fun out of it. But watching his dad soar above the treetops awakened in him a desire to do the same and forego using the rheiard for the rest of their trip. They weren't very far from Meltokio. He should be able to manage that distance without arousing too much pain.

A spasm shot through his arm and loosened his grip. Flamberge struck the ground with a thud that echoed in Lloyd's ears. Studiously avoiding eye contact with Kratos, he bent to retrieve the sword. He threaded his fingers around the handle, but his grip did not hold. When he stood, the handle slipped through his fingers and fell again to the ground, tossing up chunks of earth where it impacted. He tried again, and again his grip would not hold.

Sighing, he put away his wings. Only then did strength flow back into his arm, enabling him to complete his task. As Lloyd cleaned sticky mud and dew-slick shoots of grass from hilt and blade, Kratos approached.

"There are techniques—" he began

"I'm not weak."

Kratos laid a hand on Lloyd's good shoulder. "No, you are not."

He shrugged off the hand and moved several paces away. He turned the blade over, appraising his cleaning job. It shook a little in his grasp. He lined the tip of the blade with the sheath throat and shoved—too quickly—and pinched the web of flesh between his right thumb and forefinger between the throat and guard. He cursed and shook his hand in a vain attempt to dull the pain.

"Damn it," he cursed again. "What's happening to me?"

"Lloyd, let me see your arm."

He had an impulse to protest but, realizing the futility, perhaps the foolishness of doing so, unbuttoned his shirt.

Kratos remained silent a long time as he examined the raised discolorations like bulging veins on his son's shoulder and upper arm.

"Well?" Lloyd said at last.

"Has it grown in size? Has it spread?"

"Yeah, I guess. I haven't paid attention until lately, but it seems bigger. Did you go through this when you transformed?"

"No. Perhaps it has something to do with the Angelus Exsphere or a genetic trait you inherited from your mother."

"What's 'genetic?'"

"Something you gain from your parents."

"Oh, like the locket you gave me."

Kratos shook his head. "No, not a material inheritance, but a skill or a physical trait. For instance, you _inherited_ your mother's hair color. And my build."

"And Dirk's abilities as a craftsman!"

"No."

"You said skills could be inherited."

"I did, but working the forge is a learned skill, not one you were born with," Kratos said. "And you can only inherit genetic traits from your birth parents. Think of it like cooking: you can only make the dish you want if you have the proper ingredients."

Lloyd's eyes went wide. "How do you know all this, anyway?"

"Genetics was one of the tools Mithos used to develop a body compatible with his sister's spirit." Kratos would have said more, but mentioning the role Mithos had in breeding the Chosens' families through the generations would only have set Lloyd off. Before he ceased thinking on the topic, a final thought struck him, and he gave voice to it before he thought better. "Several years ago his interest in the subject deepened significantly, but he never mentioned why."

"Lloyd shrugged. "I don't really get it, but, if it helps you figure out what's wrong with me, I'm all for it. So, what's wrong with me?"

"I'm not sure."

Lloyd ground his teeth. "Then why'd I have to sit through that lecture?"

Kratos sighed. _Had Anna been this flighty? _"It's probably related to Angel Toxicosis but is distinct from the disease that attacked the Chosen."

"So the same cure wouldn't work?"

"It might help, assuming we can locate all the components."

"I hate to sound selfish," Lloyd began.

Kratos said, "Sheena has already sent Raine and Regal to find what components they may."

"Sheena told you this?"

Kratos nodded.

"She didn't tell me."

"Hmm. It must have slipped her mind."

Lloyd allowed it was possible, but did so with little enthusiasm.

Kratos did not detect Lloyd's dejection; his main focus during the last minute or so of their conversation had been on an internal debate. Should he impart to Lloyd the knowledge he was considering? This disease surely wouldn't kill him, would it? He could live with it. Yes, a life of chronic pain every time he raised his sword in defense of an innocent. And Lloyd would never stop defending the innocent, not until the day a shock of pain overcame him long enough for an opponent to strike him an incurable blow. Kratos had never seen a gel or resurrection spell reattach a severed limb. Or a head. His decision was made._ Don't hate me if this works, my son._

"There are," he said, "techniques I could teach you—if the cure does not work."

"And they'd heal me?"

"Perhaps. Healing is not their purpose, but they might help."

"Okay, teach me. Heh, if they work, I won't need the cure."

"NO!" Kratos said, too forcefully, then in a gentler tone, "No, the techniques are...dangerous. Only use them—only ever use them—as a final resort."

Lloyd eyed him suspiciously. "All right, Dad, I promise."

Kratos nodded. "Good, now watch me closely."

■□■□■

**_To be continued._**

■□■□■

**Last Modified: **26 October 2006


	23. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 3

My favorite scrap of ToS dialogue occurs during the Sheena Heimdall scene. Lloyd says, "Ha ha, you dork. You don't have to put yourself in my shoes that much, you know!" _Dork._ With that simple word, we who choose the Sheena path know how close she and Lloyd have become. Her feelings for him are unquestionable, but his are less certain: "I think we could become great friends." Calling her a dork is far from a declaration of love, but it clearly signals a new depth to their relationship. Before this scene, he had only used the word to refer to Colette (and perhaps Genis—I don't recall). Referring to Sheena as a dork means Lloyd considers their relationship on par with his and Colette's. And once there is equality, there can be transcendence, especially when we learn at the end of the scene that Sheena and Lloyd will be spending so much time alone at journey's end.

---

Bear in mind two things: 1) This is an OC-centric update. This would not be a problem in the context of the larger chapter, but some readers might be annoyed. 2) I have rewritten and expanded the ending. Everything after "Normal vision soon returned, and with it a splitting headache." is new. That's nearly 800 additional words.

---

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 21: Everything you ever wanted to know about Summon Spirits but were afraid to ask**_

_**Section 3**_

**Nine days ago**

The Exbelua body was not designed for a chase; it could move neither quickly nor covertly. This was especially true for Jared, who was burdened with both the heavy pair of arms customary for such a creature and a lame leg than reduced him to a bounding gait more like hopping than running. Branches snapped off trees as he passed, and last year's dead leaves crunched beneath his good foot. Great, green thorn ropes tore at his clothing and marked his flesh with long scratches too shallow to bleed.

Until recently this terrain had been absent of forest growth. The stronger world preyed upon the weaker, siphoning off more and more of the mana they shared and leaving the land barren. The reuniting of the worlds ended this and superimposed patches of Tethe'alla's landscape over Sylvarant's. But the plains of Iselia had changed little. Jared had at most half a square mile of forest to work with. He could avoid capture only for so long.

An arrow nicked his shoulder before embedding itself in a tree. The monster in him swung at the tree, splintering the trunk and very nearly shattering his hand.

_Calm, damn it!_

On the hill before him lay a thicket of thorn ropes large enough and wide enough that he could not see where it ended. A stroke of luck. His thick skin would protect him as he barreled through, but the soldiers—armored or no—would have to go around. He plunged in, and the thick mass of thorny stalks caught him like a net. He pushed forward as far as he could, creating tension, then swung club-like arms, tearing through the stalks or deforming them enough to let him pass. Then again and again, developing a rhythm. The thorns bit deeper than before, some drawing blood, but the pain didn't register. He zigzagged to avoid creating a path for the soldiers.

□■□

Unaided, their blades sliced through none but the thinnest of stalks. Damage could be inflicted on the thicker ones if a soldier held the stalk in place while another hacked at it, but the soldier who held a stalk came away with shredded gloves and bloodied hands. Nearer the base, where the ground held them firm, the stalks were thick as tree trunks. Only an axe could have hewed those, but the captain left their axeman behind.

Initially the soldiers tried following the Exbelua's path, but so congested was the thicket that once they were a few feet in, the path disappeared so abruptly they wondered with no small terror if the thorns were consciously replacing themselves. Nor had magic worked. The thorns had proved resistant to fire and ice. Their magician was resting up before trying lightning, but he wasn't hopeful.

The captain placed a hand on their archer's shoulder. While the squad struggled with the thorns, he'd nearly exhausted the contents of his quiver trying to bring the Exbelua down. "Ease up, son," the captain said. "You're only making him angry." To the rest of the squad, he said, "This is taking too long. We'll go around."

□■□

At the apex of a swing of his arm, an arrow impacted just below Jared's right shoulder blade. It pierced the taut skin, and the motion of dropping his arm again to his side drew the arrow in further. Each movement drew it in further.

He pressed on, thrusting himself against the next set of thorn stalks and swinging his left arm. He put too much force into the swing, and turned himself around, slipped, and fell to the ground. When he stood, he realized he could not see the soldiers. He stayed put, hazarded straightening himself to get a better view of the terrain. Still couldn't see them. And no arrow came his way. He reached back and snapped a handful of stalks in case the soldiers were in earshot.

Decision time: Should he head back the way he came or continue on through the thicket and exit the forest? Then what? He didn't know what was on the other side, but he did know what wasn't there. His Exsphere might have been pocketed by any of the soldiers, or it might still be lying on the battlefield at the forest's entrance. Dare he hope for another stroke of luck?

□■□

"Spark Wave!" The magician's on-the-run spell dissipated as soon as it struck the thicket.

"Conserve your energy," the captain snapped.

Huffing, the magician said, "Least now we know they're lightning-resistant."

□■□

Thorn ropes were _not_ lightning-resistant; rather, their unique composition made them excellent conductors. The spark wave arced from one stalk to another until it surrounded Jared as he wavered indecisively among them. When the current at last struck him, it sent him tumbling down the hill with enough force to crash through every stalk in his path. The rolling fall twisted the arrow in his back, snapped the shaft and drove the head deeper. He heard a pop, then a sound of rushing air. And suddenly it was hard to breathe.

_My lung!_

Each heartbeat sent pain racing along his nerves, pain which hadn't lessened since his transformation. He was getting used to it, though, enough to notice which pains were new. His knee throbbed—must've banged it pretty hard. Small blessing, it was the knee of his bad leg. His chest burned outside and in. Likely deep scratches on the outside. And in? He took a deep breath... No popping, no hissing. He hadn't punctured a lung, just been winded by the fall.

Another deep breath, and he stood. A growl came out as a groan. The bad leg was really bad. He doubted he could make it back up the hill, and, if he could, his lost time meant the soldiers might well be there to greet him. Fate, it seemed, had chosen his destination—he'd head back the way he came. Too bad he didn't believe in fate.

Minutes later, he approached the forest's edge. Caution urged him towards the ground, but he resisted, uncertain he'd be able to rise again. A cursory glance told him the battlefield was empty save for the bodies of his slain companions. And there was his Exsphere—right where he'd left it. He just might live. His half-cracked plan had actually worked. He hobbled onto the battlefield, feeling as if he strode. He made it eight full steps before an axe struck him in the small of the back.

The force of the blow drove him face-first into the dirt. The precious seconds it took to regain his senses and roll over meant he was too late to avoid a second blow. A crunching sound came from the arm he raised in defense. He wished he'd exploited the element of surprise this well against the pink-haired girl. Of course, she'd been tiny and lithe, not hulking and half-lame like he. Enough excuses. If this axeman wanted to score a third hit, he'd have to earn it.

Jared's kick swept the axeman off his feet. But by the time Jared regained his footing, so had the man. He swung his axe wildly. Jared dodged the cutting edge and slammed his fist into the flat of the blade, breaking the man's grip. Before his weapon struck ground, however, he unsheathed the knife at his belt and drew it across Jared's gut. It etched a jagged white line across green and yellow flesh, but proved too dull to break the skin.

The monster tore a growl from Jared's ragged vocal cords, and struck the axeman with more force than necessary. The blow sent him hurtling away in a high arc. He righted himself in mid-air, though, landed safely, and dashed forward. When he had closed half the distance separating them, he threw his knife.

It caught Jared in the eye, but bounced off the armored organ without leaving a scratch. The axeman, meanwhile, had regained his primary weapon. Leaping, he slammed it into the side of Jared's neck. _It_ did not bounce off. Jared fell senseless to the ground.

The axeman spoke, but Jared heard nothing until the man leaned low and got in his face. "This what you looking for?" He held Jared's Exsphere. "There's a reason Exies ain't allowed on Ogdoad squads. You're unpredictable, unstable. You killed your teammates and now you expect to change back, wash your hands, no consequences—No!" He shook his head. "No, I ain't letting it happen."

He squeezed the Exsphere as if he meant to crack it. Failing in the attempt, he tossed it over his shoulder, listening intently for the thud as if fell on densely packed earth. Soon, he stood, axe raised, over the jewel. "Hear me, monster?" he said, "I ain't letting it—hurrk!"

Tapping the last reserves of his strength, Jared rose and, with one flexing of his powerful leg muscles, flung himself across the battlefield. He plowed into the axeman's torso, and they both went down hard. The blade sliced into Jared's back as it fell from the axeman's grip. For nearly a minute Jared lay atop the man, unable to move. Then he rolled over, stared into blank, dead eyes. Lowered his gaze until it fell on the knife impaled in the man's chest, the cocky fool's own knife. Jared had scooped it up right before his leap.

His left arm, the one that was probably fractured, he placed over the Exsphere. It adhered itself almost greedily to his flesh, and the agony of transformation overtook his brutalized body. The fractured bone broke along with many others, which repaired themselves (after a fashion). Red vision faded to black as one eye split into two. Normal vision soon returned, and with it a splitting headache.

In the bag clipped to the dead man's belt, Jared found much needed medical supplies. He downed two apple gels and immediately felt better. Surface wounds faded away, and those that remained he dabbed at with a gel-soaked cloth and bandaged. He paid particular attention to the scratches on his chest and the sliced tendon above his left heel. He squeezed together his right heel and calf—the gels had done nothing for the severed tendon between them—and wrapped them tightly in three layers of bandages soaked in gel. After a moment's consideration, he added a fourth layer.

Had he thought about it, he would have taken pleasure knowing that he was ransacking the belongings of one of those who had only minutes before done the same to his. But now was not the time for pleasure. He popped open a flask of orange gel and took periodic sips as he worked about stripping off the axeman's armor and clothing. Little of Jared's own clothing had survived his transformation, and much of what had, thorns had shredded. It took a special build to qualify as an Ogdoad axeman, and Meltokio armor was not custom built. Though the dead man was several inches shorter and somewhat thinner than Jared, the gear would likely fit.

It did. Only his shirt sleeves were a little short, and metal gauntlets covered those. He dressed quickly, cinching up the breastplate and boots—he had to remove the fourth layer of bandages to get the right one to fit—and strapping on the helmet. Walking proved a pain, but he'd deal with it. He'd hoped to find a rheiard among the axeman's belongings, but discovered not so much as an empty wing pack. He sighed and picked up the slain healer's staff. It would be a long hike back to Meltokio, and this make-shift crutch would help only a little.

Of course, there was no guarantee that he could have flown a rheiard if he'd found one. He'd started pilot training, but that training abruptly stopped when he'd been assigned to a scouting squad. He and his comrades had no need for flying machines while spending months surveying an area's terrain and traveling to its villages gathering intelligence. Jared's captain had claimed the duty of visiting the nearby hot springs, which prompted more than a little grumbling by his men. Only Jared had stayed silent, and was rewarded for it with the assignment of visiting Iselia. He'd opted out, noting that his unusual height would attract too much attention. Besides, he hadn't joined the military to perform light duty. He wanted to sacrifice for _his_ city, _his_ king. (And he had other reasons for wanting to avoid the village of Iselia.)

Come to thinks of it, perhaps the secret to why his squad had been beaten by two young girls lay in the way it and other squads like it functioned. He was loath to question the wisdom of his military leaders, but he could not deny that a squad whose members spent most of their time working alone would naturally have difficulty fighting as a cohesive unit.

On the subject of fighting, he'd better move if he wanted to avoid any more of it today. He retrieved the axeman's blade. It was a Kauket Clever to replace the one he had lost. He wiped off the dirt and grime and blood, and noticed his reflection in the blade's clean, mirrored surface. Blue eyes and tufts of dirty blonde hair peeking out from the helmet—he was glad to see those again. His skin was still tinged with a greenish hue, but that would fade with time. He tucked the blade into the holster on his belt. _Only one thing left to do._ He seized the axeman's arms and drug him to the center of the battlefield where he covered the body with pieces of armor or clothing Jared scavenged from his dead companions. It wouldn't hide the body for long, but perhaps it would be long enough. Leaning on the healer's staff, he set his face toward Meltokio and took his first limping steps.

"Stop! Don't move."

The voice came from the forest's edge. Jared did not need to turn around to figure out who had spoken. A soldier who had given up on the Exbelua chase, no doubt. And judging by the sound of crunching leaves that was getting louder, he would not be alone for long.

_Sloppy work,_ Jared chided himself. _You should've been faster._ He took a deep breath and lowered a hand to his weapon belt.

■□■□■


	24. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 4

Namco Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 21: Everything you ever wanted to know about Summon Spirits but were afraid to ask**_

_**Section 4**_

It took Dirk nearly an hour to realize he was reading a language he had never learned. He'd come to the end of Kate's translation and switched to the original manuscript of _Ahaellum's Awakening_ without noticing. He expected his understanding would fade then, like figuring out you're dreaming can wake you from a deep sleep. Instead, it became more vivid. He looked back over the translation, took up a pen, and jotted down a few corrections.

The letters in the original were simple geometric shapes and half-shapes, filled-in or empty, arranged in strings of up to thirty to represent phrases rather than words. The resulting manuscript pages resembled black-and-white line art when held at arm's length. Instinctively, Dirk knew that the greatest literary works in this language not only read well, but each page also formed a pleasing picture. He wondered whether anyone had ever chanced upon a similar text and misinterpreted it as a mere picture book. He wondered whether such misinterpretation had been the author's purpose.

The picture on one page showed a hand with stubby fingers clutching a hammer. But it was the text, not the pictures, that intrigued Dirk. Herein were dwarven tales, the legendary history his people remembered only in fragments. It told of their only above-ground military engagement, waged during the last days of the Kharlan War; their experiments with crafting semi-sentient weapons; and, incredibly, the creation of their race by an elemental being called Ahaellum.

The role of creator came late to Ahaellum. For millennia the earth elemental contented himself with teaching. When humans first appeared in the world, the other spirits heeded Origin's command to leave them to their own affairs. Not Ahaellum. After decades of careful observation, he took on the appearance of a human and walked among them. Legend spread of a giant with a flowing red beard who gave the gift of knowledge to everyone he met. A mountain of a man they called him, and this description pleased him to no end.

In time Origin quietly rescinded his command, and one-by-one the spirits volunteered their help. Undine was first. She taught sanitation and irrigation to the fledgling race. Next came Efreet, with whom Ahaellum constructed the forges that crafted humanity's first metal tools. Then Volt and Celsius and Shadow... Each spirit shared his expertise, and for a time all was good. Even the arrival of a new race from the stars boded no ill fortune. Rather, the spirits rejoiced at the prospect of additional students.

Elves were not, however, ideal pupils. They possessed technology far in advance of this world's natives, and, though they accepted the spirits' teaching for diplomacy's sake, they clearly did not need it. With them they brought a gift, a seed that grew into a tree. It weeded itself into the heart of the world and changed it from the inside out, making it more hospitable to elves. With each passing generation human lifespans decreased, elf lifespans increased, and more and more of the world's natural mana was consumed as fuel for elven magic.

Ahaellum's anger flared, and he raised his axe against the tree. Had Origin not stopped him, he would have felled it, and in so doing, doomed the world. In his wrath, he had not seen that the fates of the world and the tree were linked like conjoined twins sharing the same heart. Nor had he understood that the elves acted without malice. The Kharlan seed came from their own tree of life, harvested from their dying home world. Planting it here symbolically tied the destiny of their race to their new world. They were shocked to learn the truth and sought to restore humanity's proper lifespan. But science proved impotent. Only through intermarriage could the elves atone for their sins. Some humans accepted the offer, and in this manner the first half-elves were born. Children of both species, they inherited the natural heartiness of humans and the magical abilities and long lives of elves.

Like new parents, humans had little time to spend with their old friends. They took their lessons from elves, and eventually half-elves. A faithful few still heeded the advice of the spirits, but their numbers shrank by the year. Ahaellum didn't mind. The size of his audience mattered little; he would teach so long as there were those willing to listen. What's more, he rejoiced to see the mortal races prospering. Even the elves.

Prosperity did not last. As the population spread across the globe, rifts formed. Humans fought against humans, half-elves against half-elves. War broke out; soldiering became a profession. And Ahaellum, the first spirit to reach out to mortals, became the first to abandon them. Unsuccessful in lobbying for peace, he locked himself away in his underground temple. Origin visited him often in those days, seeking to heal the rift in their relationship, but Ahaellum remained distant.

Origin did not speak arrogantly, nor did his words seem meant as a rebuke. But Ahaellum could not help seeing them that way. They fed into the loneliness he'd harbored since losing his students. He thought about inviting a select group to join him below ground, but that would only divide the race further. And the graveyards and battlefields they left in their wake showed him what humans were capable of when they distorted his teachings. His best chance was a fresh start with uncorrupted students.

The dwarves were a stocky people, built for forge work. They honored the earth and crafted great works of art from its gifts. They were stone-talkers, steel-whisperers, never forcing their material to take a shape it did not want, but bringing out the essence of what was already there. Ahaellum gave them no names for they needed none. They were his children; he knew each individually. Regarding the actual process of dwarf creation, the book said only that it was too sacred for words. Dirk felt mild irritation until a voice in his head said, _You should have told them about it if you wanted them to write it down. _

"_Ahaellum_ should have told them," he corrected.

Nowhere did the text name an author, and Dirk was reasonably certain there had been several. The text read alternately as a journal, a history, a legendarium, a book of wisdom—too many genres for one person to master—and it covered too much history for a mortal to have lived through. Then again, the underlying style, assuming Dirk's grasp of the language's structure and syntax to be sound, varied little, and the artwork consistently displayed the same high quality. And the same relevance.

Every picture had more than a casual connection with the phrases used to craft it. The stubby hand clutching a hammer was about forge work. Another picture, showing dwarves dressed in their traditional garb, was built from a passage about clothing. Their shirts, Dirk noted, appeared hardly dissimilar from Lloyd's. Buttons not thread held the sleeves and front of both together, only Lloyd's buttons were ceramic instead of polished stone. And both came in three colors: red for fire and earth, blue for sky and water, and green for plant life. Dirk had dressed Lloyd in all three when he was a child, but as soon as he grew old enough to dress himself, he invariably went for the red, having never taken a shine to the blue and actively despising the green. Said he felt like a different person when he had it on, like he was losing a link to his true self.

_Ah, children. So picky and so stubborn._

Ahaellum's children had been stubborn too. He'd made them too much like himself. Wishing to emulate their father-creator, "he who made us from the earth and himself," they begged his leave to spread his teachings to the above-ground races. He denied the request, but their persistence wore him down. He created a second race, smaller, more curious, and less intelligent; and he forbade the dwarves from ever mentioning the above ground races again. This arrangement satisfied them for a time, but did not dispel their yearning to explore the surface world. It was a desire Ahaellum still felt, and he had passed it on to them.

Whatever the dwarves taught the smaller race they would retain for a time. Then it would fade and the teaching would have to be renewed. The dwarves called them learners, "they whom we teach with repetition," but most knew them as gnomelettes due to their association with the most famous member of their race, Gnome, the designated summon spirit of earth. His creation—now that was an interesting story. And informative. Was there anything in the present world system Mithos wasn't involved in?

And why did the book record nothing of Ahaellum past the breaking of the world? Where was he? And why did the king think Dirk was he?

Dirk closed the book. His eyes were heavy from reading all night and his hand cramped from correcting translations. He shifted his attention to the second book. _Ogdoad: The Mythology of Early Mizraim._ It was a picture book like _Ahaellum's Awakening_, but unlike that book every word was a picture. Birds and snakes, rivers and mountains. Would he understand this language as well? No, the symbols were meaningless. Just as well, he didn't feel like reading another book, this one twice as thick as the first. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He had just fallen asleep when Kate stumbled sobbing down the stairs.

■□■□■

**Next: **Sheena and Yuan


	25. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 5

Namco Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created fore entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 21: Everything you ever wanted to know about summon spirits but were afraid to ask**_

_**Section 5**_

Direct contact had never been Mizuho's preferred method of intelligence gathering. Simpler and quicker than covert surveillance, it was also less reliable. Operatives found what a person said rarely matched what could be uncovered in private documents or learned through confidential informants. But probing by Hatoru, sent by Chief Igaguri to the Renegade's arctic base, had turned up no likely informants. Nor had he located any unguarded documents. The Renegade's security system was the best he'd ever seen, and Hatoru's status as a known guest, more ambassador than spy, precluded him from gaining easy access to secure areas and obligated him not to try.

Their leader Yuan had promised him all the information they could find on the Ogdoad legend. But a week had come and gone and Yuan had delivered nothing. So a restless Hatoru made daily excursions into Flanoir to plumb the rumor mills. He was just returning from one such trip when he spotted a pair of rheiards heading toward the base. Magnificent flying machines, he was tempted to abscond with a few for the village's use if only for the thrill of trying to steal them without being caught. But that was not a mission objective, and alienating a potential ally would clearly violate his orders.

He quickened his pace, determined to reach the entrance in time to intercept the rheiards. His black garb contrasted with the snow he trudged through and caught the attention of the riders. After dismounting, they paused at the base entrance to allow him to catch up.

"You should be wearing white, Hatoru. It's better camouflage up here."

"You just say that because your mother sews the white costumes, Naoki." He pinched the material of Naoki's sleeve. "Good craftsmanship, though. Too bad they stain so easily."

Naoki shrugged. "She needs the busine—Hey!"

Hatoru clasped hands with Fukuro and Otonashi and nodded to Sheena. "Next chief, what brings you here?"

Fukuro cleared his throat. "Igaguri stepped down. Sheena is our chief now."

Hatoru fell to his knees. "Forgive me, Chief."

Sheena too knelt. She grasped his arms and pulled him to his feet. "No apologies and no kneeling. Not right now. Tell me what you've learned."

"Right. I hoped to return to the village by now, but the Renegades have been uncooperative. They've revealed nothing about the Ogdoad. I did, however, learn that—"

The deafening sound of the front doors ratcheting open cut off his explanation. Hatoru recognized both of the half-elves who stepped through the doors, though he knew only one by name. Gold piping accented Yuan's breastplate and gauntlets and the dark cape he wore. His smirk and raised eyebrow indicated a bearing as aristocratic as his dress just as his hand's frequent slipping to the back of his neck to warm it against the winter chill indicated a new haircut. Above the collar, off the ears, and half-way to the eyebrows, it was so radical a change from the description recorded in Mizuho's files that at first Hatoru thought this might be the wrong Yuan. But the half-elf's attitude soon confirmed his identity.

An attendant followed closely behind, holding a massive sword presentation-style in both hands in front of him. Hatoru had seen him often that week, but since Yuan never addressed him, merely snapped his fingers when he needed something, the ninja has been unable to learn the attendant's name. The ninjas tensed when they saw the sword, all except Sheena, who stared disdainfully at the Exsphere mounted prominently on its hilt.

"It's not every day that the chief of Mizuho graces my base with a visit," Yuan said, his voice dry. "Congratulations by the way."

"Uh, thanks," Sheena said. "How did you know?"

He nodded toward Hatoru. "I doubt he was simply bowing before a pretty girl."

She blushed.

"Besides," Yuan continued, "we have this area under surveillance. Audio switched on automatically as soon as we detected _our_ rheiards approaching. So good of you to return them."

"Sorry. I need them a while longer."

"Then we must arrange another payment for the information you seek."

"You have the information?" Hatoru said.

"Of course. The Ogdoad was one of my favorite bedtime stories."

"As a child?' Hatoru said.

"No, two years ago." Yuan sneered. "I had Botta read it to me while I sipped hot chocolate. He did the voices and everything."

"If you had it all along, why'd you keep it from me?"

Yuan crossed his arms. "I'm not giving away information like that for free."

"But, but..." Hatoru attempted an answer, but ended up babbling.

"Plus I have other information that should be of particular interest to your lovely chief." Yuan flashed her a grin, and Fukuro fingered the hilt of his sword. Yuan said, "For her ears only."

Sheena sighed. "All right, Yuan, what's your price?"

He snapped his fingers, and the attendant offered the sword. Yuan seized it, swung it experimentally, and slung it over his shoulder. "It's very simple. I hear that you are re-forging your pacts. Don't look shocked. It's not as if you have a monopoly on the spy market. I have my sources. Anyway, I heard about what you're doing, and I want in."

"That simple, eh?" Sheena said.

"That simple."

"Forgive me, Yuan," she said, "but you're not that altruistic. Why do you want—?"

He adjusted his grip on the weapon. "Leave my reasons to me. So, do we have a deal? My information for your letting me fight with you?"

Sheena's eyes roved over her squad. The slant of Naoki's head displayed his doubt, and as usual she couldn't read Otonashi's expression. But Fukuro was shooting a look of downright hostility at the half-elf. If she accepted Yuan's offer, one of these three would be sidelined during today's fight. Maybe all the fights. Yuan hadn't specified whether he meant to continue with them after the fight with Celsius. What if he did? There went Mizuho's chance for solo glory up in smoke. Decisions, decisions. Her gaze shifted back to Yuan and his weapon. Decision made.

"Fine, but after we're done, you destroy that weapon."

"Agreed."

"And any other Exsphere-augmented weapons you have."

"Don't push it," Yuan said shooting her a stare icier than the weather.

She matched his gaze. "Take it. Or leave it."

"All right. We'll destroy every Exsphere-augmented weapon in the base."

"_Both_ bases."

He grit his teeth. "Every weapon in both bases."

She smiled. "Then it's a deal."

"Chief." Fukuro grasped her arm. His eyes and the bridge of his nose were all that were visible behind his battle mask, fashioned to resemble the head of his namesake, the owl. But his fervor animated the mask so that she could almost tell his words by the movement of his lips beneath the fabric. He whispered harshly, "I do not trust him." The owl was the wisest of birds, and Fukuro was perhaps the wisest of her squad, wiser perhaps than she. But that didn't change the fact that,

"I've made my decision." She looked very deliberately at his hand still clutching her forearm. In moments he got the message and released his hold, a horrified look on his face. Her eyes softened. "But thank you for your counsel. I'm sure I'll be relying on it heavily in the battles to come."

She gathered the squad around her. "Remember that the Igaguri style teaches adaptive fighting. Make your environment work for you during battle. A rock or a sharp stick can be as deadly as an Asura or a finely tempered blade."

"So," Naoki said, "We should think of Yuan as part of the environment."

"Exactly," she said. "He's like furniture."

A voice interjected. It was Yuan's. "You know, I'm right here," he said. "Seraph. Excellent hearing."

With a grin, she ended the impromptu pep talk and sent her squad ahead to Flanoir to stock up on supplies. "I'll be along soon," she told them. "Hatoru will bring me in the Elemental Cargo." She needed to hear his report anyway.

Yuan stood in the doorway, waiting. As soon as the ninjas were gone, he leaned his sword against the wall and closed the distance between them. "No one can serve two causes, Sheena."

"I seem to recall you did."

"Funny." His face became suddenly serious. "I can appreciate your wanting to aid his mission, even respect it. Exspheres should be destroyed. But someday Lloyd's mission and your village's interests will clash."

She set her jaw. "Not today."

"But some day."

"Maybe. But today you and me and two of my villagers are fighting Celsius. And we are going to win. Meet us at the Temple of Ice in one hour." She took a breath. "And, Yuan, that information of yours had better be _very _good.

"Come on, Hatoru, let's go."

■□■□■

**Next:** Genis and Zelos

■□■□■

**Omake**

Sheena is sitting along the bank of a creek, looking glum. Boots removed and pants rolled up, she dips her feet into the gentle current. Lloyd is napping, his head on her lap as she runs her fingers absently through his hair. Zelos, cheerful as ever, walks up.

Zelos: Hey, Sheena, why the long face?

Sheena: Hi, Zelos. Mithos claims to know my mother's name.

Zelos: That's great. You always wondered about your family, right? Threaten the brat until he spills his guts.

Sheena: He already did. Her name's...Mylene

Zelos: Mylene, huh? Funny, that's also _my_ mother's name!

Sheena: Mylene Wilder...yes, that's what Mithos said.

Zelos: That would make you my...all those times I imagined you na--nak...all those pictures I took...I think I need to lie down. (he runs away, desperately trying to hold down his lunch.)

Lloyd: (opens his eyes) You really have to stop messing with him like that.

Sheena: (shrugs) A girl has to get her kicks somehow. Wait, did he say pictures? (she rises so quickly that she flips Lloyd into the river) Come back here, you pervert! (she pursues) What pictures?

Lloyd: (spluttering and dragging himself out of the river, he smiles in spite of himself) At least she's cute when she's angry.

Zelos: (in the distance) Martel, gouge out my eyes! Ow! Sheena, you're not Martel.


	26. Ogdoad 4: Everything About Summons, Pt 6

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

_**Chapter 22: Everything you ever wanted to know about summon spirits but were afraid to ask**_

_**Section 6**_

_...Now connect the green_ _wire to the second port..._

Ow!

_...Hmm. Must be the third port..._

Genis's hand pulsed from the electrical discharge. "Mithos, you said you knew how rheiards were put together."

_...I know how _Yuan's_ rheiards are put together. These Meltokio knock-offs are little more than bundles of misrouted wire. It's a miracle they actually fly. Look at the navigation system. It's there, but it's not connected to anything. Did they think it was for decoration?..._

Genis set aside his pliers and flexed his fingers. They were bleeding again. More than once he'd banged a knuckle on some sharp component of the machine's innards. Chunks of flesh hung from these shallow wounds, and the half-elf watched fascinated as the blood trickled down. Had Raine been here, she would have healed him already. She always did, never let him bleed, always sheltered him. He'd taken an active role in some of history's greatest events and his sister still sheltered him.

_...Damn inferior beings always messing with things they're too stupid to understand..._

"Stop calling them that. Please."

_...I'm sorry, my friend. Sometimes I forget you still have feelings for them. You're so smart in every other respect..._

"If you hate humans so much, why talk to Sheena?"

_...Are you jealous?..._

He shook his head.

_...Lie to everyone else, Genis, you can't lie to me..._

"What if I am jealous? It's like Dirk said, I need to grow up."

_...Growing up doesn't mean denying your feelings. I hated Yuan when he asked my sister to marry him. What right had he to take her from me? I'd be alone, and no one had the right to make me feel alone... _The voice in Genis's head paused. _...Sound familiar?..._

The half-elf rested his head against the cold exterior of the rheiard. "What's your point?"

_...That there's nothing wrong with your feelings. They're natural. You could no more avoid them than you could avoid growing taller. My hatred passed when I saw how pointless it was. I couldn't hate Yuan for loving someone as wonderful as Martel. Your hatred will pass too in time..._

"I never said I hated Sheena."

_...But you do. You hate her because she's taken away your best friend. You hate Raine—just a little—because she treats you like a child. You hate Zelos because he won't let you leave to search for Presea. You hate—..._

"STOP IT! Just stop it. You're putting words in my mouth." He pounded his fist against the rheiard three, four times, deepening his cuts and denting the machine and streaking it with blood.

_...Am I, or am I bringing out what's already here? You've been thinking about this all week. We could've had this rheiard in full working order the day you opened it if you'd listened to me. Instead you accepted only enough advice per day to preserve the illusion that you were figuring it out on your own. And right now you're telling yourself that you extrapolated that little story about my past from what you already knew about me. Even if you verified it, you'd call it a lucky guess. But I'm not angry, dear friend, because I know you. As a scientist, you demand proof. Fine, I'll be patient. But consider: If I'm really Mithos, you're capitalizing on four thousand years' experience by taking my advice. If I'm not Mithos, you're simply taking your own advice..._

"So I should forgive Sheena?"

_...Hell no. Hate her. Hate her with every ounce of your being. Because some day you'll get over it. Don't hold onto it when you should let it go, but embrace it while it's here..._

"That's not who I am."

_...Isn't it? I seem to recall a clever lad able to compartmentalize his hatred quite well. You loved Lloyd, but hated his race. Hate Sheena now for stealing your friend, but love her later for making him happy. It's no different..._

"I suppose..."

_...Good, we'll speak again later. Your little outburst has attracted too much attention..._

Turning, Genis saw Zelos shuffling his way. Frantically the half-elf snatched a handkerchief from his pack and wiped at the blood staining the rheiard. It had collected in the creases of the dent he'd made and he could not remove it all. Nor could he remove the blood on his hand. His handkerchief was already soaked, and there was no time to use a gel. He turned back to the machine and thrust his hand inside.

The step-slide-step-slide of Zelos's limping halted, and Genis knew the redhead now stood behind him. But Zelos wasn't talking. And that annoyed the half-elf. Where was the usual snappish remark?

"If you're pretending to work on that thing," Zelos said, "you'd be more convincing with a tool in your hand."

Genis mumbled, "About time," and then brushed off Zelos's questioning grunt with a "Never mind."

Shrugging, Zelos flopped onto the ground and reclined against the rheiard. On its side was emblazoned the king's seal, or rather, the remnants of it. Genis had scratched through it with a screwdriver the first day he'd worked on the machine. Zelos tapped the seal. "The rheiard's looking better, but I still say you should junk it. You'll never get it working."

He was probably right. The rheiard had smoked all the way from Iselia where Genis had commandeered it to the group's first campsite some ten miles away. And it hadn't worked properly since that initial flight. Not one spark or sputter could he pry from the dead engine for five days. With Mithos's help he'd restored a number of minor systems (but not navigation as his friend was wont to remind him). Yesterday he'd gotten the rheiard to hover ten minutes, but it hadn't flown. It stalled out two feet above ground. His tinkering today theoretically raised the height limit to three feet, four if he was lucky. All in all the rheiard had been an interesting diversion but not worth the time he'd put into it.

"So what?" Genis said, "It's not as if I have anything better to do."

Zelos eyed Genis appraisingly. Genis looked his way, caught his eye for a moment, and then broke contact. He sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to run off and search for them on my own. I know I'm too weak, and besides I wouldn't know where to start looking." By them, he meant Presea and Colette. He didn't specify their names because he didn't have to. Zelos knew.

Zelos maintained the gaze a moment longer. His eyes were crinkled in sympathy just before he looked away. Then he broke into a grin. "Worry? Don't flatter yourself. I promised my silver-haired hunny to look after you." He twirled his hand through the air and dipped it into Genis's pack.

"Hey, what are you—?"

"I'm not wasting a healing spell on a kid too dumb to use a gel," Zelos said. He retrieved one from the pack and tossed it the half-elf's way. "You should reorganize that pack by the way. It's filthy."

A smart retort was on Genis's lips, but instead of voicing it, he used the gel. His fingers had gone numb.

"All better?" Zelos asked. At Genis's nod, Zelos hopped to his feet. "Good, let's go."

"Where?"

"The nearest cook fire. I'm starving, and these Mizuho guys won't make anything other than rice."

Genis rolled his eyes. "You want me to cook for you."

"I'm thinking pasta primavera or maybe trout almondine."

"We don't have the ingredients for those."

"Not my problem," Zelos said. "You figure it out."

Zelos had already begun to walk away, and Genis was preparing to follow him, muttering something off-color and reluctantly admitting that Zelos was right about his organizational skills. Should something fell out of the pack, he might go a week without realizing. Where was his wing pack?

Before he could find it, a bright light temporarily blinded him. He blinked away black spots and heard the voice before he saw the speaker. He'd heard the voice only once or twice before, but there was no mistaking the fact that it didn't come from a mortal. "Verius?"

The summon spirit of love nodded his fox-like head. "Yes, Genis, it is I. I need your help."

"Well," a voice behind Genis said, "What are we waiting for?"

"Zelos?"

The redhead shrugged. "Whatever the spirit's asking you're obviously going to do, right? Well, the faster you get it done the sooner I get my dinner."

■□■□■

**Next:** Sheena v. Celsius / Genis and Zelos v. ?


	27. Ogdoad 4: Summons, Pt 7

**Note:** Special thanks to Insaneiac the Maniac for the following correction: Zelos's mother is named Mylene (See update 25's omake). I've never seen the Zelos Flanoir and Heimdall scenes, nor did I have the forethought to check Wikipedia. I erroneously assumed the game did not name her. Apparently someone at Namco is a Macross fan.

■□■□■

NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author. This story may not be reproduced in any form, print or electronic, without prior permission from the author, save for short excerpts for comment of review.

**The Swordsman and the Summoner**

**_Chapter 22: Everything you ever wanted to know about summon spirits but were afraid to ask_**

**_Section 7 _**

"Sheena is fighting a battle right now," Verius said. "Even if she weren't, she's too far away to reach the temple in time."

Genis nodded. "And we're just close enough."

Had they the option, Genis and Zelos would have mounted Noishe for the fifteen mile journey to the Martel Temple. But the dog-shaped protozoan had disappeared in the week following the invasion. He might well return in his own time if he could sniff out the camp's location, but they could not wait for him. By then it would be too late to help Phaidra, the pastors, and the Iselians holed up in the temple. That left the barely functional as rheiard their only option. Genis kept the speed low and the aircraft close to the ground. Occasionally it dipped or bucked, but his repair work was sound and sustained its flight across the plains of Iselia and through the cindery ruins of his home village. He averted his eyes as they passed the ash piles and fractional walls that used to be buildings, the chicken wire jutting up at odd angles from the ground, and the bald, scorched evergreens that from a distance evoked monumental black obelisks dedicated to the memory of some long forgotten civilization.

An image leapt into his mind. He saw the pond outside his house contaminated with ash and oil, a film of greasy sludge floating atop the water. He shuddered. To the village children, the only pond in Iselia was a favorite gathering spot, and Genis understood how instrumental having it on his lawn had been to his making friends as a child. If it had been polluted, he didn't want to know. Best avoid that section of the village altogether.

Another dreaded sight he could not avoid. He'd hoped to buzz by the ruined schoolhouse, but debris from the building had fallen onto the roadway, partially blocking off the village's only northern exit. Compelled, he brought the rheiard to an abrupt halt. It conked out, the engine belching fumes, and Genis reflected that this was as fit a burial place for the machine as any. The husks of other rheiards he and his friends had grounded were nearby. _Thus the Village of Oracles becomes a garbage dump._

"Give a guy a little warning next time, will you?" Zelos said. He hadn't been holding on tightly enough and the sudden stop sent him rolling. "Couldn't you have blasted that stuff with a fireball or something?"

"Magic takes a great deal of concentration," Genis said. "We would have crashed if I had taken my attention from flying."

Zelos rubbed his sore head. "Felt like a crash to me."

Genis gazed at the schoolhouse, noting it was the only structure the invaders hadn't put to the torch. They hadn't needed to; Genis had destroyed it for them. He half-expected to see a giant meteorite set like a hill amid the broken glass and splintered wood, and breathed easier when he did not. He retrieved the kendama from his pack, and with chanted words and a few taps of the ball on a string against the body of the weapon to amplify its energy field, he hurled three fireballs at the debris. The whole exercise was unnecessary. Since the rheiard wouldn't fly again, the path hadn't needed widening; he and Zelos could have squeezed by and been on their way.

The fire burned quick and soon reduced the debris to smoking embers, which Zelos poked at with his sword. "Rubble was only a few feet high," he said. "That bucket of bolts could've jumped it."

"Maybe, but it probably would have stalled out."

As Genis took his first steps down the northern road his mind flashed back eighteen months to the day he reluctantly began his adventures. That day it had been Lloyd's natural enthusiasm that drew the half-elf down this road, though Genis had to admit a part of him was thrilled to be disobeying his sister. Nor were today's travels his idea. Verius's request prompted his every step. Now that he thought of it, he'd never walked down this road without following in someone else's footsteps. And that wasn't the behavior of a hero, of a knight. Knights weren't followers. Okay, so he hadn't initiated this rescue, but he could lead it. "Come on, Zelos," he said, charging ahead of the swordsman, "let's go."

Genis's enthusiasm flagged, though, when they reached the foot of the temple stairs and spotted the source of the summon spirit's concern: more than twenty heavily armed soldiers intent on breaching the building's meager defenses. Already the half-elf could hear the oaken doors cracking under pressure from a ram. "What do we do?"

Zelos grinned. "That's obvious. We fight."

"Are you nuts? There's no way we can beat that many by ourselves. We should wait until our backup arrives."

"And let who knows how many die in the meantime?" Zelos growled. "Remember, the old crone who runs this place is my cute little angel's grandmother. And I'm looking forward to seeing a smile on her face when she comes back to us."

"You're right," Genis said, "We'll do it for Colette. And for all the villagers who have family inside the temple."

"That's the spirit. Keep it up and you might even impress your cute-as-a-button little lady."

Genis blushed. _You said "your," not "my." Thanks, Zelos._

"So all we have to do is hold these jerks off until the ninjas show up."

"That's easier said than done," Genis said.

"Name something that isn't." Zelos took a few experimental steps and shook his head. His shuffling gait might suffice for walking, but not for battle. At a thought his crimson wings flared to life, relieving the pressure upon his injured leg. He tightened the straps on his buckler and unsheathed his sword. Pointing it toward the stairs, he said to Genis, "Lead on, Sir Knight."

Genis drew his kendama. "Forward!"

Just as he crested the first flight of stairs, he heard the snap of the doors giving way. The soldiers were in.

■□■□■

"Yuan is an unknown quantity," Fukuro said. "We cannot trust him implicitly. Our goal in battle, then, must be twofold: defeat the spirit and protect the chief. Whichever of us is sidelined during the battle must let the others know if the angel tries anything."

Naoki scanned the area before responding. Not overtly. Three ninjas gathered in the same place already drew too much attention, even after one left to buy supplies (Otonashi should return soon). Naoki didn't need the added attention that a rookie mistake like moving his head to look around or talking in overly hushed tones would bring. Look suspicious and people will be suspicious. Satisfied he wasn't being watched, he said, "You do not trust the chief's judgment...sir?"

Fukuro inhaled sharply. "Sheena has the heart of a chief. That she will do what she thinks best, I have no doubt. But she lacks experience. Igaguri spent years at his uncle's side before taking his place as chief. Sheena spent a year..." He trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Naoki finished it with a thought of his own, "Among heroes who saved the world."

"Saving the world does not make you a leader," Fukuro said.

"But it does entitle her to respect."

"You think I don't respect her? Of course I do, but I do not worship her. I have made a reasonable assessment of her capabilities."

"And you find her wanting."

"Inexperienced," Fukuro corrected. "But with great potential."

"Sir, I do not mean to doubt you—"

"Naoki, you need not apologize for questioning me." Fukuro saw the unease in Naoki's expression and said, "Tell me, who runs our village?"

"The chief."

"Officially, yes, but who really runs it?"

"Sir?"

"The council, Naoki," Fukuro said. "My father, Kimiko, Taiki, and the others have just as much a say in village politics as the chief, maybe more. Military decisions belong solely to the chief and in a pinch he can dictate civil ones as well, but the day to day decisions—the ones that really count—are all reached by consensus. The traditionalists may not agree, but that is the way it works."

"Lesson learned, but what does it mean?"

"It means question me all you want so long as we are not in battle. And do not waste time apologizing."

"Right, sorry."

"Ask your question," Fukuro said.

"The way you are talking, it sounds as if...do you think Chief Igaguri made a poor decision when he chose Chief Sheena?"

Fukuro took a deep breath and exhaled it completely before answering. "He made an emotional decision. He hoped one of his children would succeed him, but his sons died and his daughter disappeared, and his adopted granddaughter was his last chance. He would never have chosen her if he did not believe in her, but he elevated her too soon. It is up to us to make sure this mission succeeds. Can I rely on you for that?"

"Of course, sir." Naoki would have said more, but just then Otonashi stepped into view. He was weighed down with two pairs of over-filled satchels, and both Fukuro and Naoki started forward to relieve him of his burden. As he tossed a pair of satchels over his shoulder, Fukuro relayed his keep-an-eye-on-Yuan strategy. Otonashi nodded his understanding.

"Come then," Fukuro said. "The chief's vessel has surely docked by now, and I want to make sure she is untroubled by monsters on her way into the city."

■□■□■

"You are forbidden entry into this holy place!" Age had stripped the timbre from Phaidra's voice but not the bravery from her spirit. She spoke with defiance, this stooped woman who required a staff simply to stand and could move only in shambling steps that made the short journey from temple to village an afternoon hike.

"Flee now, old hag," Captain Keane said, "and I will give you your life. Perhaps I will even spare the lives of your cohorts."

The two pastors behind Phaidra did not seem nearly as confident as she.

"Only penitent souls have any business here," one of them said, his voice quaking.

"Only those who pay homage to the goddess Martel or seek communion with the spirit Verius," the other added.

Keane smiled. "We seek the greatest communion of all." He beckoned to a man behind him. Tipsy like a drunk, he blundered forward, his clunky maroon armor rattling with every step. Keane threw an arm across the man's shoulders and eased him to his knees before Phaidra. "This 'penitent,'" he said, "seeks a pact with Verius."

Phaidra chuckled and her staff wobbled. "The Spirit of Heart already has a pact."

Keane sent a questioning look to the man in maroon, who in response lowered his head and twisted his fingers into a complex series of gestures. After a moment he looked up and shook his head.

"You lie," Keane said to Phaidra.

"I speak the truth. All who live with love in their hearts have a pact with Verius."

"We'll be wanting something more specialized." He let the old woman mull that over while he appraised his pact-maker. He remembered the man as a boy, an eager young page freshly entered into the king's service. Polishing armor and sharpening weapons presented no great challenge, and he'd advanced to squire a full two years ahead of schedule. But he'd never be a soldier. His frame was too delicate and he lacked the stomach for killing. Summoning, then, seemed a perfect fit. But the weekly injections were taking their toll. His brilliant black hair—even brows and lashes—had faded to a pale blonde, and his frequent loss of appetite had cost him twenty pounds he hadn't to spare. Some were able to endure the symptoms, even to thrive on them, but not he. Still, his captain would see to his success no matter what. He refused to let the little cuss break his winning streak.

This was the third pact-making expedition he'd led, and he was determined it would be his third _successful_ expedition. He'd gone first to the Temple of Earth, brazenly marching a handful of combatants across the plains of Iselia to within twenty miles of the village itself and securing Conrad's place as the first royal summoner. Conrad—now there was a man who could endure his symptoms. Though his hair had faded, he'd not lost a pound. To the contrary, since beginning injections he'd bulked up, though that probably had more to do with his rigorous physical training. Ha! Ten to one he started the training to impress a woman. Keane wished he were fighting alongside Conrad now. Or the pact-maker from his second expedition, even if that one was a bit insubordinate—he insisted on taking part in the fighting instead of hanging back as ordered. Undine scored a number of hits against him, but her eventual defeat made her the third spirit now loyal to Meltokio (A colleague of Keane's had secured Efreet before losing his life and most of his squad to Volt).

The king's strict policy meant there were no pact-makers to spare. Each summoner was to have one pact and one pact only. That way the king could deploy the spirits to multiple locations, or he could attack a single location with no lag time between summons. Imagine how quickly he could quell an insurrection with the combined might of Efreet, Gnome, and Sylph. Fire, earthquakes, and wind all raining down at once—such efficiency! And there were certainly other creative ways to combine the spirits' talents. The possibilities were dizzying.

The pact-maker still knelt as if the thought of rising had not yet occurred to him. He doffed his helmet, revealing a sweat-drenched face and short tufts of hair plastered to his scalp. He dragged a leather-encased hand across his forehead and his glove came away dripping wet, having displaced a mere fraction of the sweat. When he did finally stand, his feet sloshed in his boots.

Keane grimaced. Against the Research Lab's advice, the pact-maker had been given a double dose of his normal injection before the mission. Intelligence on Verius suggested a spirit more belligerently opposed to granting pacts than Volt. Rumor had it he denied even the Mizuho girl's pleas. And the king _wanted _this pact. Boy, did he want it. So much so that he'd conducted the pre-meeting briefing personally. Never had Keane heard the phrase "ungrateful whelp" used so frequently in a quarter-hour, and applied to a summon spirit no less. He kept expecting the king to say, "We brought him into this world, we can take him out." Had the briefing gone on a little longer, he probably would have.

He patted the pact-maker's shoulder. "You ready?"

In response he received a nod and a grunt.

"Go."

Replacing his helmet, the pact-maker brushed past Phaidra and the pastors, and three soldiers followed him: a big bruiser of an axeman, a card fighter, and an offensive mage. Medical bags were slung across the pact-maker's shoulders. Surviving battle was his chief goal, but he was also to ply the fighters with gels if he could do so safely. When he reached the central passageway that led to the seal room, he paused, turned back to his captain, raised his visor, and nodded as if to say, "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

In response his captain shrugged as if to say, "I don't care."

He regarded Phaidra with a frown. He'd lied to her. His orders were twofold: secure the pact and force-march anyone found in the temple to the prison camp set up at the old human ranch. She'd never make it, would slow the whole march down, and he couldn't let her go as he'd promised. He'd have to eliminate her before he left. It was the merciful thing to do, and short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her, it was the only thing he could do. Facing her, he said, "Where are the others hiding? Come on, you three aren't the only ones here. Let's have them."

"So you can 'spare their lives' as well?"

He grinned. Sharp old bird.

"Gravity Well!" someone shouted. "Run!" And the troop surged forward. The temple portico proved too small to accommodate them all, so most had remained outside. Snatches of their conversations had reached Keane's ears throughout his confrontation with Phaidra, but he'd assumed at least a few of them would be guarding the rear. Obviously not if they'd allowed someone to get far enough into casting a spell to identify it. Now they'd pay for their carelessness. Not all of them would pass through the doorway in time to avoid the attack. Keane felt the rumbling of tiny tremors in the earth, saw tiny sparks exploding in the air, caught a whiff of ozone, telltale signs all of a combined lightning and earth spell. It might be an Earth Bite, though. He craned his neck for a better view. No, this would be an area spell. Gravity well, then. The panicked soldier, whoever he was, had gotten it right. It made sense. Only a fool would waste the element of surprise striking against a single opponent.

Keane raised his shield, then the attack hit. One of the unfortunate killed was launched into the air and his lifeless body collided with the captain, knocking him off his feet. He'd have cursed if the fall hadn't driven the air from his lungs. He took in deep, gasping breaths, and choked on the acrid smoke that filtered into his lungs. The attack had probably cost him a quarter of his troop. Whether that put him at a disadvantage depended on how large a force he was facing. He might still salvage a victory. _Wait for the smoke to clear,_ he told himself._ Then I can assess._ But when the smoke cleared, all he saw was the tip of a double-edged sword planted inches from his face.

"Yeah, Short Stuff, surprise attacks are the way to go!" said the man holding the sword. His head was turned, presumably to address a comrade. When he finished, he turned to face Keane. "Wouldn't you agree, Cap?"

"Chosen." He spat the word.

"Aye, aye."

Keane made a move for the weapon strapped at his side, but Zelos pressed the sword into the flesh of his neck. Keane might push the blade aside with his shield if he swung his arm around fast enough. His arm twitched. Zelos noticed and pressed the blade deeper, deep enough to draw blood. The captain sucked air through his teeth. The blade stung like a son of a—"Gahh!" He screamed as the blade sliced across two and a half inches of his neck.

A high-pressure plume of water impacted Zelos in the stomach and slammed his body against the wall. The water ripped through his shirt and blistered the skin beneath with welts. Flap his wings as furiously as he might, he could not break free and remained pinned against the wall. Only when he stopped struggling and blacked out did the water let up. The card fighter crumpled the now useless water card and stuffed it into his pocket. "Captain!" he called out.

The hand Keane had pressed against his neck was slick with too much blood. Frantically, he dug through his bag for a gel and tried desperately to remember the healing spell he'd been taught.

He heard the words, "Here, Captain, drink this." And he did without hesitation, half expecting the contents of the flask to come spilling out of the gash in his neck. He continued to hold the wound together, even after he felt the tingling of its mending itself from the inside out.

"We'll have you fixed up in a minute, Captain."

The sounds of battle still raged around them as he let go of the wound and raised himself up on his elbows. "Where's our healer?" he said.

"He must've bought it in the blast," the card fighter said, winding a bandage around the captain's neck.

Keane tried to swallow. "Loosen it," he said. After the card fighter complied, the captain continued, "Not that I don't appreciate the save that nearly killed me, but why aren't you fighting the spirit?"

"The passage to the seal room is blocked off by a barrier. We need a key or something."

"Hey, crone," Keane said, "how do we access the seal room? And don't tell me it's by having a pure heart or some other mantis-shit."

A bemused Phaidra shook her head. "I'll tell you nothing."

The card fighter leapt to his feet and backhanded the old woman.

"No, don't hurt her," a pastor cried. "You need the sorcerer's ring. It's in the basement. Take the eastern corridor." He sank to his knees and pulled Phaidra's head onto his lap. She moaned. "It's not...don't send them...don't hurt..."

Keane rose and squeezed the card fighter's shoulder. "You fight. I'll get the ring." He caught sight of the axeman, and the pact-maker huddled in the central passageway. The mage must have already joined the fight. He'd have to commend him for his quick thinking later. The axeman Keane directed to join the fight; the pact-maker he grabbed by the arm and drug into the eastern corridor. When he started to protest, Keane said, "Don't worry, newbie. I'll protect you from the big bad civilians."

"The villagers in the basement are innocents," came the voice of a pastor. "Please don't hurt them!"

But the captain was already out of sight, and the card fighter's fist soon sent the pastor out of mind.

■□■□■

**Names:**

Kimiko - f, "noble child" (all right, I'm a fan of Meltokio; so sue me)  
Taiki – m, "large radiance"  
Keane – m, "ancient" or "fighter" (as good a name for a soldier as any, I suppose)

**Next:**

_Zelos and Genis / Sheena and Yuan_ - or - _Lloyd and Kratos / Dirk and Kate_


End file.
